


America The Great

by Koolelkrikat34



Category: Donald Trump - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Modern American Politics
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Additional Ships to be added, Bad Puns, England is saving his waifu, Except for some possible smut in later chapters ;), Fighting, France needs some dick in his life, Kidnapping, M/M, Political Incorrectness (Trump), Posessive Trump, Pure Crack, Sexual Tension, Terrible American accents, This is purely comedy, Trump Rallies, guess whos going to hell guys, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koolelkrikat34/pseuds/Koolelkrikat34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After another confrontation with England, America just wants to go home. Unfortunately for him, Donald Trump thinks this is the perfect opportunity to kidnap him and take over the United States with the help of his supporters.  Trump's goal? To become ultimate dictator of the country and....seduce America? It doesn't take long for the rest of the world to notice, and England is roped in, "against his will", to save him. As England goes undercover as a Trump-loving American, he has to gain Trump's trust in order to free his ally. Will Trump be fooled? Will England rescue America and be the hero? Will they admit their obvious feelings towards each other? Or will the authors be shot before this is finished? Find out now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things Get Real

Today was just not America's day. Traffic was a bitch and the line for McDonald's was painfully long. It didn't help that Germany happened to be extra harsh on everyone today (except for Italy, of course). The weather outside was a mess. The heavy snowfall never ceased and thick sheets of ice covered the roads. Needless to say, it was just an average Tuesday in Canada.

Taking a large swig of his McSweet Tea, America surveyed the room. Though they were only halfway through the meeting, most countries were either asleep or on the verge of a mental breakdown. Germany was giving some boring ass speech on...Frankly, America couldn't remember nor did he care. France sat to his right, drinking wine and muttering some depressing hipster bullshit in French. To the left of him was Canada, who was actually paying attention. And next to him was...England.

America sighed to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It's not like he didn't like England or anything. Honestly, he wasn't sure HOW he felt about him. But things had gotten a lot more difficult between them for no explicable reason. All of a sudden, England became fussier and started pointing out more of America's flaws than usual. America hadn't done anything wrong...recently.

Shrugging it off, he pulled out his phone to check his emails. Since it was an election year, America received twice the amount of messages than normal. "Let's see here...Hillary, Hillary, Hillary, Hillary, Hillary...Trump? Ew. Delete! Alrighty...Hillary, Hillary, even more Hillary...Obama?!" America blinked at the strange email he'd gotten from his boss. The subject was simply 'Help Me'. "...Meh. He's probably just drowning in paperwork. I'll read it later. Maybe."

As he continued to scroll, he felt a slight 'ping' on the side of his head. Snapping his head up, he searched for the cause of said 'ping'. Deciding it wasn't important, he turned his attention back to his phone. Once again, he felt a ping on his head. He looked to the left, where he saw an irate England who was holding a bundle of shitty ballpoint pens.

"Pay attention, you git!" England hissed.

"Are you kidding me dude? You're freaking KNITTING!" America replied, slightly louder.

"First of all, it is called CROCHET. Secondly, I at least was trying to pay attention!"

"Oh really? What'd he say?"

"...Look,it doesn't matter! I at least made an attempt!"

From in between them came a very meek voice. "Okay guys, let's try to calm down, eh?" Whispered an uncomfortable Canada.

"Oh, shut it, Province!" snarled England.

America proceeded to jump out of his seat and cover Canada in a protective embrace. "Don't you tell my brother to shut it, Eyebrows!"

From across the room, Prussia called out, "Hey, ladies! Hands off the merchandise!"

Germany, who had continued giving his exhausting speech the entire time, stopped abruptly. He shot Prussia an icy glare. "Bruder, please don't interrupt me while-"

"Aw, shut up, West! Your speech was unawesome and no one was listening anyways!"

"Bruder, that's-"

"Who here was paying attention to West's lame speech?" A few strangled groans rang out in response while the rest of the countries didn't move from their sleeping positions.

"Ve~! I was paying attention!" waved a cheery Italy, seated next to Germany.

"Thank you, Italy-"

"He's only saying that because he wants your wurst, West."

"Ha! And by wurst, he means PENIS!" yelled America.

"Wanker! Stop being so vulgar!"

"You know 'wanker' means a dude who masturbates, right? Stop being such a 'crit, dude!"

Meanwhile, poor Canada hid under the table. He wept silently, cursing Prussia. "Great job, Eyebrows! You made him cry!"

"I did not! It's all this bloody shouting!"

"C-can you please stop...?"

"America started it!"

"Bro, you threw a pen at me!"

France, who had been relishing in this commotion for quite some time, piped up. "Ah~ Sexual tension...A sign of true romance!" His voice then dropped an octave. " I love it!"

Both squabbling nations tensed up at this. Flustered, England curtly responded, "A-as if! How could I ever love a man who's going to have Donald Trump as his next president!"

The room became dead silent. The once dozing countries were now up and alert. It was a fact that America hated being reminded that Donald Trump was the Republican front runner. Anyone who had the audacity to mention this was given a swift punch to the jaw. Most were interested in the outcome of England's remark. Sensing a fight, Canada crept to Prussia's side. Italy was, of course, already behind Germany and quivering in fear. The air seemed to thicken, and a shadow passed over the conference room.

America slowly twisted his head towards England. His entire body was shaking in fury while his face had a crazed smile etched upon it.

"What...Did you say...?"

England was unfazed. "It's obvious, isn't it? He's already won over a couple of states and he has legions of gun-toting AMERICAN supporters. It won't be long until he has control over the entire goddamn country!"

An audible gasp was heard throughout the entire room.

"Oh shit, boy! He 'bout to do it!" laughed a very entertained Prussia.

"Shh, Gil. Let it happen." said Canada, who sat comfortably on his lap.

"Ve~! It's like that one time awhile back when Mr. Bush was president and England got really drunk and started shouting at America and France recorded it and it was really funny because England has low alcohol tolerance and he started stripping and Switzerland shot him in the knee and he started cry-" Italy was silenced by Germany's gloved hand over his mouth.

"Quiet, Ita! I'm trying to listen."

"...Germany, I'm scared." came a muffled voice.

"SHHH!"

".......germany i'm still scared.."

England cleared his throat and stared America, waiting for a response.

Taking a deep breath and smiling even wider, America began. "I'm...sorry? But do you even know how elections work in my country? I'm guessing you don't because the only thing you seem to know about me is that I happen to bring McDonald's all the time (and that's because its the most convenient thing available). But, if you even took the time to get to know me, you'd understand just how difficult it is finding someone capable enough to run a country and sane enough to deal with the mountains of paperwork and stress associated with the job! Mr. Trump is neither of those things. He can barely run a company, much less a fucking country! I assure you that he has no idea how my military works, or even how a freaking law is passed. Hell, I don't even know how a law is passed! It has to go through, like, 25 guys or some shit. BUT ANYWAYS, I'm sure you Brits wouldn't understand, considering your most recent Prime Minister stuck his dick in a dead pig's mouth!" After his rant, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed out. The door slammed violently behind him, leaving everyone in stunned silence.

Prussia broke the silence after a moment. " Oh shit! He did it! Get fucking wrecked, son!"

After Prussia's outburst, some countries muttered among themselves about what the hell had just happened. The rest chose to snicker at the bewildered look on England's face.

"That was hilarious!" mused Canada, who munched on some kettle corn he had somehow gotten during the fight.

Once again, today was just not America's day. But Canada had fun.


	2. And so, it begins..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traffic sucks, men are gay, and shit gets real. THE PLOT THICKENS OH NO YOU GUYS

Somehow both the weather and traffic had gotten even worse. Not only was it snowing harder, it took America an extra hour to get on the main highway. At this point, he was royally pissed off. His McSweet Tea was nearly finished and basically just glorified ice water at that point. All his uneaten food had gone cold, but that didn't stop him from taking a violent bite out of his trademarked Big Mac. The steering wheel dented under his vice grip. The rage he felt could only be compared to that of a triggered preteen Tumblr girl.

A small, silver Prius in front of him cruised comfortably 10 miles below the speed limit. Fed up, America rolled down and yelled out, “HEY YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I'VE GOT ALL THE NUCLEAR LAUNCH CODES OF THE UNITED STATES MEMORIZED! SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET BLOWN THE FUCK UP, I SUGGEST YOU START MOVING!” The Prius quickly sped up. “Fucking Canadians. And people think I'm a bad driver!"

His attention was soon captured by the thrilling beat of “Anaconda” coming from his phone. “Jesus fuck, what do you want, Canada?!”

“I-I'm just checking to see how you're feeling!” squeaked Canada, cringing at the volume of America's voice.

“Oh, I'm FUCKING PEACHY! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I FEEL?!” America hung up, stabbing the “end call” button intensely.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
“Okay, he seems a little upset at the moment. Now might not be the best time to call him, England.” Canada said, tucking his phone away and rubbing his now partially deaf ear.

“Ohonhonhonhonhonhon~ You really messed up this time, _Angleterre_!” Cackled France, flipping his hair.

“Fuck off, you bloody frog!” snapped England.

“Language, Britain..” sighed a very tired Germany.

“Why are we even still here? The main character left..” France pondered, sipping on another glass of wine.

England sunk low into his seat. Pushing his palms over his face, he sighed heavily. Canada rubbed his back reassuringly. “I really buggered up this one...” groaned England.

“Yeah...You kinda did...” Canada responded softly.

“Any chance he'll forgive me?”

“Uh...Hope springs eternal?” suggested Canada.

“That's not helping!”

Prussia clapped England on the back. “Just send him a dick pic. Works for me!” Prussia offered. Canada grabbed the crochet book (that England obviously had) and threw it hard at Prussia.

“Aw- My crochet book! Man, this day is getting worse and worse. First I fight with my cru-I mean, some idiotic git and now this!”

“Ohonhonhonhon! I heard that!”

“Piss off, frog!”

“Maybe you should call back later, eh? My brother gets really pissy in traffic..I should know.”

Canada shuddered at the memory of America's road rage.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
America had FINALLY gotten home. He screamed in relief as he pulled into the drive way. “Fucking finally!” he sighed, resting his head on the battered steering wheel. Little did he know, his head resided on the car horn, which honked loudly. Startled, America jumped up and his head hit the ceiling. “The second I get in, I am going straight to bed.” He was surprised once again by an all too familiar ring tone. “Nooooo...” he groaned. “Fuck off, England.” He pressed the “Ignore call” button and shoved his phone into his pocket, not even looking at it.

America stumbled up the front steps, barely registering that the front door was unlocked. Shambling towards his couch, he tossed his phone onto a nearly table. He blindly groped the walls for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened. _Huh. That's weird_. America next tried the floor lamp by the couch. Still nothing. _Okay...How about the_ _kitchen?_ He hit the switch several times, but to no avail. “Oh, God damn it! Tony, this better not be some shitty prank!” There was no response, only eerie silence. “Tony...? Whaley...? Guys...?” No response.

America jogged up the staircase. He proceeded to check every room, only to find them empty. All the curtains had been drawn; only a small amount of dying sunlight filtered into the dark rooms. He also tried every light source he came across, none of them worked. _Alright, Alfred! Let's not panic. It's not like it's ghosts or something, right?...OH MY GOD IT'S A GHOST ATTACK I'M GONNA DIE FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!_

Panicking, he pulled out his trusty Nerf gun from his bomber jacket, pointing it wildly. “I AM ARMED AND READY SO NONE OF YOU GHOSTS COME NEAR ME!” His voice cracked as he searched the room for any signs of movement. The silence was deafening. His blood froze when he heard a low chuckle coming from behind him. Screaming like a white girl in a horror movie, he fired his Nerf gun with the precision of a drunk man. A plastic 'click' alerted him that he was out of pellets. “DAMN IT, WHERE IS MY VACUUM?!” His heart slammed in his ears. Cowering, he closed his eyes and his mind raced through all the different horror movies he'd seen.

Everything stopped as he felt a rag cover his mouth. The last he heard before passing out was a low chuckle.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After his neglected phone, England took matters into his own hands. He picked up some God- awful Hershey's chocolate (as a peace offering) and drove to America's house. Traffic had only slightly deteriorated, so it was pretty late when he got there. “Bloody traffic.” he mumbled, slamming the car door. He was about to knock when he noticed the door was open. The house was pitch black and uncharacteristically quiet. “America? Are you in here?” he called out. “I got you that shite chocolate you like...” Frowning, he pulled out his phone. Perhaps America fell asleep and forgot to close his door. Since he was never without it, England would try calling him. Not the most gentlemanly thing, calling someone at midnight after kind of breaking in to their house but whatever. That's when he heard...it.

 **NICE LEGS, DAISY DUKES MAKES A MAN GO WOOT WOOT!**  
**THAT'S THE WAY THEY ALL COME THROUGH LIKE WOOT WOOT!**

Instead of the original whistling, a certain burger loving fuck's voice replaced it with his obnoxious 'woot woots'. A bright beam of light radiated from the coffee table. Puzzled, England walked over to the source and found that it was America's discarded phone. His face turned a darker shade of scarlet when he saw the caller I.D.

“Eyebrows ;P”

_Dear God, why?_

The picture beneath it was a random shot of him taking notes at a meeting.

_When was this taken? And...Are my eyebrows that big?!_

Putting down the phone, he assessed the situation. “Well, he's not sleeping, so...Where is he?”

Using his own cell phone as a light, England searched the rest of the downstairs. After finding nothing, he headed up. He noticed quite a lot of Nerf darts strewn around the upper hallway. That's when he heard a familiar neighing sound. “Uni~!”

“Niii~!” whinnied America's (totally real and not at all fake) unicorn.

“Oh! I'm so glad to see you! What's happened?”

“Niii!”

“Wha- He's gone? And he screamed like a little girl?”

“Niii....”

“You don't know where he went, huh? Well, come on! You must be hungry! What's that git been feeding you?”

“Niiii~?”

“Disgusting! And not at all organic!”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
America faded in and out of consciousness before finally waking up. The first thing he noticed was the dull strain on his arms and shoulders. Judging from the slicing feeling on his wrists, he knew he'd been chained up. “Wh-where am I?” As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he took note of his surroundings. He was chained to a freezing cold wall. His knees hurt from the kneeling position he had been put in. A few wall lamps provided the room's scarce light. It was barren except for an old metal chair next to him. There was a staircase on the back wall leading up to some unknown place. The room was frigid but immaculately clean. America's ears perked up at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. He was then face to face with his captor.

 _Oh shit_.

The man strolled over to him, his bulky figure casting a large shadow over America. “What the hell do you want?!” he shouted. The man chuckled, leaning close to him. Rough fingers caressed America's jawbone. His chin was tilted up, forcing him to lock eyes with his captor. America felt the man's hot, smelly breath on his ear.

 

“ _I'm gonna make you great again, America._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GEE, I WONDER WHO IT IS???  
> Haha, anyways, just to let you guys know, there will be NO rape/non con between America and his...captor. That's too much for our poor hero. The worst it will get is the "Captor" being super creepy and pining after him. Like Belarus to Russia.  
> Also, my cousin and I will be gone for around 2 weeks starting on the 5th. Don't worry, we will be working on the story. We're also thinking about uploading one more chapter before we leave, so yay. Happy belated Canada Day, btw. Oh and happy early birthday to the greatest goddamned hero/country on the planet. #AmericaFuckYeah  
> Happy holidays, everyone!  
> ~Kri and "The Cousin"  
> P.S. this was a bitch to edit. I know, the formatting is still weird but what can ya do? ~The cousin


	3. Trumptations: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter may contain traces of Creepy Donald Trump, Angry conservatives, Shitty O.C.s, Ruined McSweet Teas, The SuperWhoLock fandom, and EXTREME britshness. Viewer discretion is advised.

"Get your cheeto-looking baby hands off me!" America shouted, squirming away from Trump.                                                                                                                               

"They may look small, but they can do wonders."

America shuddered violently and shut his legs together. "Don't even think about it, sicko!"

"I have. Why else do you think your here?" sassed Trump, leaning in closer.

America turned his head away from Trump. "Face it, you're mine now. I've taken over Washington, put Obama in prison. Nobody knows you're even here! Just accept my love already....babe~" Trump's leathery lips puckered up as he leaned in for a kiss. America headbutted Trump so hard that the orange man flew back several feet.  His toupee was knocked clean off his head and laid like a discarded tissue on the floor.

"I am nobody's! I only belong to FREEDOM!...And maybe China, cause I owe him a shit ton of money. And maybe this one British dude, even though he's being a bitch right now. He ruined my McSweet Tea, too."

Trump put his toupee back on. "He ruined the sacred McSweet Tea? If I ever see him, I'll wring his limey neck for you, babe!"

"Don't call me that!"

"How about Doll face?"

"No!"

"Sugar?"

"Hell no!"

"Cutie with a booty?"  
  
"What the fuck?! No!"  
  
"Fine, fine! I'll just call you...Alfie?"

"...NO! What the fuck even- just get out!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once he was done thoroughly taking care of Uni, England left. He drove to a nearby hotel and nearly collapsed of exhaustion in his room. His phone buzzed as soon as he got comfortable. "Who the bloody fuck is it?" He complained. It was a message from one of his advisors, Mark Bingham.

**Kirkland,**

**Wake up, Princess. Her Royal Highness is holding an emergency conference in 5 minutes.**

**-Bingham**

England hastily grabbed his laptop from his brief case and turned it on. His SuperWhoLock computer background was quickly covered up with the Skype logo. He was then face-to-face with Queen Elizabeth II, along with other United Kingdom officials. The Queen smiled at the disheveled country.

"Good evening, Sir Kirkland. Or should I say good morning? We've been looking for you, where have you been? At a certain _American's_ house?"

The other offcials chuckled at the Queen's remark. "N-not like that, Your Majesty!"

"I merely jest, Arthur. Do you know why I've called this meeting?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty."

"Turn on the news."

As soon as the t.v. turned on, the room was flooded with frantic voices. A surly looking newscaster began to speak.

" In a stunning turn of events, Republican front runner Donald J. Trump has taken over the United States. With the help of over 80,000 armed supporters, Trump stormed the White House and Capitol Building. He then proceeded to have his followers hold politicians at gun point and threaten to shoot them unless he was named the new ruler of the United States of America. In only two hours, Congress voted to have him become _Supreme Dictator of The United States_. Trump's first move as Dictator was to shut down all international airports and seaports. Trump has decided that no one may enter or leave the U.S. as of now. This is apart of his plan to make America fully independent and self-sufficient."

The news feed then cut to a live feed of Trump at the White House. " I know to my opponents this may seem drastic or even stupid..But trust me! Full isolation is the only way to make America great again!" He was then drowned out by massive amounts of cheering.

England sat there, slack jawed at what he had just learned. "I KNEW IT! HA- I mean. That's so tragic. How terrible."

"Be serious, Arthur! This is no time to rejoice about finally being right. We also have reason to believe that Mr. Trump has kidnapped the personification of the United States. Since you're the only one in the U.S. right now, we need you to do some spy work. Disguise yourself as a rich, conservative American and befriend him. Once you're close to him, you'll be able to find out the whereabouts of Barack Obama and the United States. You'll get a chance to meet him in person later today. He's holding a rally in Richmond, Virginia, which isn't that far from where you are now. We're counting on you, so good luck."

"Y-yes Your Majesty. I'll do it straight away."

With that, the Queen ended the call. England shut his laptop and flopped onto his back. This was going to be the start of a very long ordeal for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 11 am, England was roused from a quite lovely dream by someone knocking at his door. Grumbling and half asleep, he opened it to see Mark Bingham. "Good morning, sleeping beauty! Surely you haven't forgotten about your mission already?"

"Oh, bugger off, Mark. I'll be ready in 10 minutes."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At three p.m., England stood outside in an itchy Walmart brand suit. It was an agonizingly sunny and hot day in Richmond. It was only 83 out, but England was fairly sure he was being set on fire. He was surrounded by at least a thousand Trump supporters, all donning the same red ball cap with _"Make America Great Again"_ stitched on the front. The gigantic crowd began chanting as a certain man strolled onto stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you- Supreme Dictator of the United States, Donald Trump!"

The cheers turned into a deafening roar. Trump smiled and waved his minuscule hands at the sea of supporters. Raising his right hand for silence, he started to talk. "A few hours ago, I was made aware of probably the most craziest thing I've ever heard. Among us are living, breathing representations of every nation in the world."

_Oh, bugger me with a cactus!_

A murmur spread through the crowd. "I know! It sounds crazy! But, I have great news! We are going to march into Guadalajara and force the personification of Mexico to personally build our wall! And he's gonna pay for it!" The crowd went wild at the idea. Hoots and air horns went off, while some were singing the national anthem. "But, that's not all, my fellow Americans. After Guadalajara, we're going straight to Toronto. And you know what? We're going to take over Canada! They're too nice; They need us! With your help, we can take over the world!"

"He's fucking insane, I swear!" whispered England. Unfortunately, a nearby supporter heard him.

"Whut did yew say abowt Mister Trump?" asked the heavily accented supporter. "Are yew insinuatin' that this fine gentlemayn is less thayn perfeckshun?" A few other supporters took notice of this small fight, and started staring. " Cuz I'll tell yew whut, Mister! Yew can take your o-pinion and shove it up your patooty-"

"What's going on over there?" interrupted Trump, who was not happy being out of the spotlight.

"I-" England started, before having a microphone thrust into his face. He remembered the Queen's orders. _Pretend to be a rich American and befriend Trump._ England prayed silently before speaking in his American accent. "I was just saying how _smart_ and _logical_ you are. There is absolutely no way that your plan will backfire."

England's throat burned from and his jaw cramped. His accent was terrible. He could tell from the faces of the other supporters that they thought so, too.

Trump seemed to buy it because he grinned. "You flatter me! What's your name, mister?"

_FUCK. "Arthur Kirkland" is more British than the BBC channel!_

"My name is...Artie...Jones!"

_Nice job picking your crush's last name, wanker._

"What a fantastic, all-American name! A round of applause for this fine young man!" encouraged Trump, waving his hands enthusiastically.

Trump then returned to talking about his usual topics: the wall, Mexicans, nuking China...ect. Within an hour, Trump had finished and the rally was over. England was quickly greeted by the man himself, his glorious toupee drooping in the summer heat.

"Artie! I really liked what you said today! I can tell you're a forward-thinking rich guy and a true American. You should come join me for dinner, I'm sure we have a lot to discuss."

"That sounds swell!" England internally cringed at himself. No amount of showering could wash off the shame he felt.

"Great! You know what, Artie? I had an idea. I think we should rename the country."

"Oh, really? To what?"

" _America The Great_ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roll credits.
> 
> JK. It's not nearly done yet. sorry for the shortness but is what our creative minds could do on our sweet baby's birthday. We wanted to get this on the 4th because we're leaving Michigan in a few hours. We sure hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for more as things get wilder. But how can they not? It's Trump.
> 
> ~Kri and The Cousin 
> 
> P.S.- The Queen is a savage. I may be all American but long live the Queen, the realest old person on the planet. And yes, the 'most craziest' line is on purpose. ~The Cousin


	4. BFT: Big Friendly Trump™

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains traces of Mexico, expensive furniture, random Spanish, Trump™, and major political incorrectness. Some things Trump says can be offensive to some people, so be advised. Obviously, the authors do NOT agree with any of the horrible things he says (so no triggering allowed!)

England was relieved from the humidity as he was shoved into Trump's limo. He then found it hard to breathe; Trump had him squished right up against the window.

_He is way too goddamn close._

"So, Artie! What do you even do for a living?" Trump asked, not noticing how uncomfortable England was.

"I-I'm a CEO of...Uh..." England quickly glanced outside, looking for some corporate business. They flew past a gas station, giving him an idea. "I'm the CEO of Shell!"

Trump snapped his fingers in recognition. "That's the gas station for poor people, right?"

"...I suppose it is."

"The middle class is so stupid! Oh hey, look! A hobo!" Trump pointed at a man in rags. "Haha! Look! It's one of your customers! Just teasing~ Hey, driver! Stop the car!" Trump rolled down the window. "GET A JOB, YOU FREELOADER! HAH! What do you think, Artie?"  
"He reminds me of an Australian I know..."

"You poor thing, knowing poor people! The poorest person I know is my gardener, Felipe. He always says to me ' _Que te folle un pez_ '. I don't know what it means, but I'm sure it's a compliment." He turned his attention to his driver. "Take us away from this disgraceful man!"

England sunk into his seat. _As soon as America is safe, I'm kicking Trump in the bollocks._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Two hours later, they arrived outside of Trump's mansion. The building was surrounded by a 20 foot high iron fence and heavily guarded. Huge American flags adorned the fence and exterior of the house. Workers were scrambling left and right to put up various patriotic decorations. The car halted at a security station. An old security guard glared at England suspiciously. "It's okay, he's with me!" Trump called out, clapping England on the shoulder. The guard said nothing, but let them through.

As the gates opened, the shrill tune of "God Bless America" blared from out of nowhere. England nearly leaped out of his seat in surprise. He screamed, in a particularly thick Cockney accent, "FUCKIN' 'ELL, MATE!"

Trump looked at him curiously. "Do you always go into a British accent when you're scared?"

"Too much Doctor Who, you know? Heh heh..." he laughed nervously.

"I have a similar problem. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'll just scream out 'MEXICANS!'. It's caused problems in my past marriages."

They exited the limo and were escorted into the dining room. The walls and floors were white marble lined with solid gold. A large mahogany table sat in the center of the room, underneath a vast chandelier. A man sat in the background, playing the piano. Every piece of furniture appeared to be brand new and spotlessly clean.  They sat next to each other, with Trump at the head of the table. A few assistants came around, pouring champagne and fussing over Trump. His toupee was being fixed when he started to speak.

"Be honest, what do you think of my place?"

"It's very patriotic." said England, remembering the massive American flags outside.

Trump puffed out his chest with pride. "I know! I had my people decorate it even more since the 4th is coming up."

England choked slightly on the champagne. A familiar sinking feeling spread throughout him. Eyes burning, he looked away quickly.

Oblivious to England's small crisis, Trump asked,"Where are you from?"

"Utah." he replied quickly. _That's a state, right? Or is that in Canada...?_

"I've vaguely heard of it. What's it like there?"

"Dry and with lots of...Mormons?"

"I heard about that whole 'Mormon' thing. Speaking of which, what religion are you?"

England's mind blanked out. Trump had asked the one question he couldn't answer. _Catholic or Protestant? I'm a Cath- no, wait a Protes- no! What am I?! What's the difference?! Oh, for God's sakes, say something you git!_ "Cathtestant!" he yelled, slamming his fists on the table.

"That is mahogany!" Trump's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Cathtestant? What are you, some kind of Muslim?" Someone cocked a gun at the word 'Muslim'.

"No, I'm a Christian. It's just a, uh, denomination."

"Denom-? Denomin-? What the hell is a denominator?"

"I said 'denomination'. A denominator has to do with fractions."

"Ew, I hate math. The only thing I like about it is multiplying. Multiplying MONEY that is! What the hell is a fraction anyways?" England then proceeded to lecture Trump about fractions for the next half hour. Trump seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. "Wow, Artie! You're really smart! I need more friends like you!" He slapped him hard on the back. "That reminds me! There's some business I need to attend to in Mexico tomorrow, and I want you to join me. I could use your help."

_Oh dear, poor Mexico. I'd better go along before he starts a war._ "Sure. I'd love to." His accent wasn't getting any better, but Trump bought it.

"Great! We'll leave in 20 minutes. My patented Trump Jet™ has beds and a shower, so you can get cleaned up before we arrive."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8 hours later, England was clean and well-rested. And in the middle of Mexico. He had been given some spare clothes, (which were far too big for him), stood outside in the jet. It was even hotter in Mexico, at an apocalyptic 84°F (or 28°C). Trump strolled confidently with England towards a nearby house, presumably Mexico's.

Trump and his entourage burst through the front doors, guns raised. A young woman sat at a table, gazing out the window. "YOU!" Trump bellowed, startling her. "TAKE ME TO THE PERSONIFICATION OF MEXICO! EL TAKE ME TO MEXICO!"

The woman quirked an eyebrow at him, looking around the room. "You are talking to her." she stated calmly, in a heavy accent.

Trump gasped, eyes widening in shock. "Oh my God! You're a WOMAN?! No wonder this country is so fucked up!"

Mexico scowled fiercely at him. "Ah...Mister Trump. I have been expecting you since the press conference yesterday. I have taken the necessary precautions, of course." She pulled out an old shot gun, the dull metal gleaming. She place the gun in front of her and leaned on it, staring directly into his eyes. "You have come to talk? Let's talk."

Trump gulped and shook his head. He refused to be intimidated by a woman. His usual arrogant aura returned as he paced in front of her. "As you know, I've been planning to build a wall between my country and yours. Normally, it would take thousands of your people to build it. But..." he paused, pulling out a puny knife. "I'm thinkin'...you're gonna build it."

Mexico stared at him for a few seconds before howling with laughter. She clutched her sides, tearing up. Trump blushed in humiliation. How _dare_ she laugh at him! He gripped the knife tightly, waving it in front of her wildly.

"Look, Mexico! I'm not playing arou-" he stopped abruptly. The knife's blade flew out and hit the floor. Trump looked from the empty hilt to the blade to the smirking Mexico. He stood there, not moving at all.

Mexico cocked her shotgun and pointed it at the humiliated man. "This was fun, but get the hell out of my house."

Trump opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. Picking up the blade, he looked at Mexico and yelled, "This isn't over!" before sprinting to his jet. His security followed, leaving England alone with Mexico.

"Mexico, I am so so-"

"Stop." she interrupted, holding up a hand. "Just stop. I don't want to know. I don't want any apologies, just leave."

England nodded respectfully to her before chasing after Trump.

Mexico sighed, putting down her shot gun. Running a hand through her hair, she mumbled " _Gringos son estupidos!"_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

The next stop was Washington, D.C. After the incident with Mexico, Trump decided to hold a press conference to explain the situation. "Okay...So, uh...Things didn't go quite as well as I planned. But you know what? That wall just got 50 feet higher!" Cheers erupted from the legion of supporters while England discreetly face-palmed.

Once the meeting was over, Trump called England over. "Artie! My man! I know things have been kind of terrible, but you've been my rock throughout. No homo, but I want to make it up to you." Trump said, grabbing England's hands.

England pulled his hands away slowly, feeling quite uncomfortable. "Alright. What did you have in mind?"

Trump's eyes lit up as he shouted, 'SHOPPING! We need to get you some clothes that don't make you look like a twink!"

England flushed. "Do you even know what that means?!"

"Of course I do! I have to know these things so my kids don't catch..." he paused, turning serious. "...The Gay™."

England suppressed a cringe while Trump dragged him to the limousine.

The next 4 hours were spent in various malls all over the capitol. Trump forced him to try on every conceivable outfit he thought of. Nothing seemed to look good on him, according to Trump. They were currently in a clothing print shop.

"Oh my God, it's perfect!" Trump shrieked, pulling a large black t-shirt off a rack. The front of it had a picture of himself on it, his toupee turning into an eagle. It was captioned "We will overcombe this!". England tried hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness. "Go try it on!" Trump squealed, forcing England into a dressing room. He returned a few minutes later with a small bundle of clothes. "I found this hoodie you might like." Trump tossed a D.C sweater to him. England then noticed a pair of neon green shorts.

"What the hell are those? You're not making me try those on, right?"

Trump giggled. "These are for...a loved one. Also..." he pawed through the bundle and pulled out a small bracelet that had the word "BESTIE" on it. "This is for you! It's only been, what, a day and I feel like I've known you for years." Trump smiled at him as he put the bracelet on him. "Heh! No homo, but you've got such slender wrists!"

England ended up getting the D.C hoodie, knowing full well he'd get shit from America for wearing it. His chest tightened when he thought of him. Did Trump really have him? Would he ever see him again?

Trump coughed, bringing England back to reality. "Would you mind coming over one more time? There's something I want to show you." Trump had an uneasy expression on his face.

_Maybe he knows where Obama or America is!_ "Of course. I'd be honored."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they arrived at Trump's house, he took England to a grandiose library. "I never use it that much so it's a perfect hiding place for what I'm going to show you." mumbled Trump, scanning through the bookshelves. "A-ha!" he exclaimed, pulling a copy of The Bible off the shelf. All of a sudden, the ground shook as a hole opened up beneath the shelf. Below them was an entrance to a staircase, shrouded in darkness. Pulling out a lighter, Trump grabbed England by the wrist and led him into the depths.

The air was cold and damp. England put on the hoodie and nearly tripped over an unseen obstacle. The ground was slick with dew. They walked for awhile, with Trump occasionally making a sharp turn. The small flame provided a minuscule amount of light, but it was better than nothing. England then began to make out a faint light in the distance. As they neared, Trump spoke up. "Remember how I said those shorts were for someone I love?"

_Here we go._ "Yes."

"Well..." he began, leading him into the light. "I want you to meet him." Trump led him into a small, dimly lit room. England's breath caught when he saw who it was. "Sweetie! We've got company!" chirped Trump, shaking the man's shoulders. The man slowly woke up, but quickly snapped awake. The man locked eyes with England.

"Artie, may I present to you Alfred, the personification of the United States!"

"A-America?!"

"Iggy?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! Sorry for not updating in so long but we were without internet for 3 weeks. yayyyyyehhh. Really Michigan was fun though. This chapter is one of my favorites because of Mexico. In my headcannon Mexico is a girl so yeah. Don't like it? Don't read. Anyway, I hope you are enjoying this as much as we are. Stay golden. ~Kri 
> 
> Yo. First off, lemme just apologize for any continuity errors. Then again, if you're reading this, your expectations should be pretty low to begin with. Annnyyywaayyss, I'm going to try to type up these babies quickly and upload them all by the 27th (Kri leaves that day). Chapter 5 will take a bit cause i was nerd and made it suuper long. But yeah! Thanks for all the support- it's unexpected to be honest. But we appreciate it! Thanks for reading! ~ The Cousin™
> 
> P.S. Trade marks are great. Shut up, I can be a corporation if i want to, MOM


	5. Trumptations Part 2: The Start of Somethin' New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter may contain traces of angry flirting, yaoi dungeons, a lot of awkward silences, and the cousin screaming in agony because the first draft of this deleted and it hurts to live.
> 
> Also, yes. That is a High School Musical reference in the title. Fight me.

The two men stared at each other in stunned silence. Both had so much to say to the other, but they dared not speak a word in front of Trump. Speaking of the Oompah Loompah, he noticed the weird silence between and piped up. "Iggy? Do you guys know each other or something?"

England laughed nervously. "Of course not! Mr. America must have been thinking of someone else!" He looked over to America, hoping he'd understand.

America looked confused and slightly hurt. "Wha-?! Iggy, what's wrong with you? You know who I am!"

England sighed quietly. "I said I don't know who you are, _America_." he hissed through gritted teeth.

America didn't get the message. England glanced from Trump back to him several times. America let out a small "oooohh!" sound. "Right! Yep, no idea who you are! Not a clue! I have never seen you before. uh-uh. Nope. No recollection whatsoever." he confidently lied, winking at England. England slapped his hand against his forehead.

Trump bought it though. "Great! Darling, I want to introduce to you my best friend, Artie _Jones_!" smiled Trump, clapping England on the back again. England stumbled forward from the impact.

America snorted loudly. "Nice name, Mr. Jones. Though it sounds kind of familiar."

England scowled at the sneering American. Trump cleared his throat, breaking up the tension. "Well, I'm glad you two are getting along so well~. I'll just leave so you both can talk for awhile." He flirted. As he left, he called out, "Remember! Menage a trois is just Spanish for threesome!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Meanwhile, the Bad Touch Trio were hanging out at France's house. Unfortunately, the host seemed to be having a seizure. France rolled on the floor, screaming about "stupid Americans", while foaming  at the mouth.

"Someone must've mixed up French and Spanish again." Prussia muttered, sipping on a glass of beer.

" _Si._ It happens all the time. Although, France is being a little over dramatic." replied Spain, who watched France with mild interest.

"So, anyways, how's your love life?" Prussia asked, watching the now choking France.

" _Es muy bueno!_ Just this morning, Romano did this crazy thing with his tongue-"

At that moment, France gasped loudly and bolted upright. He was no longer convulsing. "Go on, _s'il vous plait._ "

"Weren't you just dying?"

France tossed his hair proudly. "I never die in the face of love!" he exclaimed. He turned to his mirror and winked flirtatiously at himself. His reflection blushed and blew a kiss back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Trump had left, England crouched in front of America. He examined the chains, which appeared to be fused into the wall. There were no visible locks on either cuff. "Damn. I don't know how I'll be able to get you out." said England, returning to his posh British accent. He looked down to see America still leering at him. "What are you so smug about? You're going to be stuck down here indefinitely!"

"You used Jones as your last name~!" America sang.

"Are you still on about that? It was the first surname that came to mind, nothing more!"

"You could've used your own. Nice accent, by the way. You sound like a 45 year-old soccer coach in Nebraska."

"Piss off! I was trying to blend in. The only way I could get Trump's trust was to pretend to be American."

"Did gaining his trust also entail becoming his personal dress up doll?" he mocked, gesturing to England's outfit.

"How did you-?!"

"C'mon, Iggy. We all know you wouldn't wear that tacky shit, you're too prissy for that."

England gave him an annoyed look. "I'm sorry, but which one of us is chained up in a sex dungeon right now? I don't think fashion is the most pressing matter at the moment!"

"Ugh! Don't remind me! It's so gross down here and I haven't eaten in hours! HOURS, I TELL YOU! And Trump keeps hitting on me! It sucks balls, dude!" he groaned.

"That reminds me. Has Trump...done anything to you?" England asked in a softer voice. He felt a surge of protectiveness; It was something he hadn't felt since America was a kid.

America scrunched up his face. "Wait, do you mean like....? OH, EW! JESUS CHRIST! HELL NO! I wouldn't let him even try!" Shrieked America, squirming uncomfortably. "Why would you even ask that?! Yuuuuuuccckkkk!!!"

"Well, excuse me for being worried about you!" scoffed England, crossing his arms in frustration.

America laughed mirthlessly. "You were worried about me? That's rich, coming from a guy who hates my guts."

"I don't hate you! Where the hell did you get that idea?!"

"You yell at me all the time. That's not exactly a sign of friendship."

"I most certainly do not!"

"You're doing it right now!"

England pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't hate you, for God's sake! I came looking for you, didn't I? Now stop acting like a prat or I'll just leave you here!" he snapped.

That wiped the cocky expression clean off America's face. His face turned as white as a sheet and his eyes bulged. His breathing became erratic as he started spouting off to England. "NO NO NO NO NO NO! PLEASE DON'T OH MY GOD! I'M SO SORRY, IGGY! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME DOWN HERE, IT'S AWFUL! TRUMP WANTS ME TO WEAR DAISY DUKES FOR SOME REASON AND HE KEEPS FLIRTING WITH ME AND HE TRIED TO KISS ME AND HE SMELLS LIKE MONEY THAT'S BEEN DIPPED IN SWEAT AND HE LOOKS LIKE A REALLY TERRIFYING VERSION OF A CIRCUS PEANUT AND I'M SO SCAR-"

"Shut up, you git." Without thinking, England pulled America's face close to his and kissed him gently on his still babbling mouth. America's eyes widened even further when he felt the light pressure from England's chapped lips. Before he could properly react, England pulled away. The kiss had been very brief, but it felt a lot longer to both men. England wiped his mouth, not looking at the dumbstruck America. He patted his cheek softly. "I'll get you out of here, no matter what."

America only nodded in response, breathless from the ordeal. A light blush dusted his cheeks.

England's face was a deep scarlet. He sat down next to America, unsure of what to do. He buried his face in his arms. _Did I really just do that?! Oh God, I've completely fucked up. He probably hates me now, or thinks I'm disgusting. I'm so stupid!_ His eyes burned as he silently cursed himself.

America nudged him with his foot. England snapped his head up, startled. "Hey, are you alright? You look kind of upset." America asked, genuinely concerned.

England blushed and looked away. "I-it's nothing important."

"Oh..." said America, a little disappointed.

They both sat there in the intensely awkward silence. America stared at his friend, wishing he'd open up to him. He wanted to tell him that he did nothing wrong, and that America had actually...Well, there was no use in telling him that. England had probably done it by accident or something. There was no way England felt that way...right? _You know what? Fuck it. If I'm gonna be stuck done here, I'm going to find out, damn it. I might as well tell him the truth!_ "H-hey, Iggy?" America stuttered. _Pull yourself together, Jones! It's just Artie we're talking to, no need to panic._ "I, uh, need to tell you something."

England didn't look at him, but he responded, "Go ahead." His voice cracked slightly.

_Fuck me, is he crying?! Maybe I shou- NO. Damn it, I have waited to long for this! I'm saying it!_ America took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "England, I-" But he was completely cut off by heavy footsteps on the stairs. He swore out loud and grimaced. England stood up, acting as if nothing had happened.

Trump appeared shorty, wearing a blindingly white bathrobe. His orange skin glowed like a neon highlighter as he leaned against the wall. He had a strange look on his face, almost like he was trying to be sexy. "I've been thinking, Artie. If you don't have any plans, I'd love for you to stay for dinner." He pushed his hips out slightly.

England held back vomit. "On one condition: You release Mr. America and let him join us." He said, shielding America slightly with his body.

Trump smiled. "Of course. Anything for a friend~." He pulled out a remote and pressed one of the buttons. The shackles retracted, letting America's arms fall free. "Dinner will be ready in 5. You know where it is. Don't keep me waiting~." He sashayed out of the room.

England returned his attention to America. His wrists were raw and bled slightly in some areas. "Shit..." muttered America, rubbing the wounded area.

 "Bloody tosser, tying you up like this. Let me help you up." He managed to pull him up, with some difficulty. America staggered around slightly, his legs weren't used to standing up in awhile. He suddenly flung himself onto England.

"What the fuck! Get off!"

"I can't walk properly! Help me oouuuttt!"

"Fine!....bloody wanker..."

"I heard that!"

"Good!

"And yes, I DO masturbate!"

"Shut the hell up, pervert!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived in the dining room. The table was set for three. A steaming plate of red lobster sat on the table, along with assorted side dishes. Trump waited at the head of the table and beckoned them to sit on either side of him. He began to blather on about his success, wealth, mansion, kidnapping skills, ect. England was about to fall asleep when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. "Ow! What the-"

It was America, wild eyed and hunched over the table. "Iggy! How the fuck are we going to get out of here?!" he whispered frantically.

"I don't know, just calm down!"

"How can I be calm when we're going to be trapped in here while he's trying to fuck me?!"

"Look, I have a plan, alright?!"

"Oh, really? What's your plan, huh? Call the Queen and have her come save us?"

"N-no! Fuck off, I haven't had the time! My arse was being dragged all over the goddamned continent!"

"Poor baby! You got to buddy up with Trump while I was stuck in a basement! By the way, why do you have a D.C sweatshirt? You hate it there!"

"I do not!"

"You burned it down twice!"

"I like the museums!"

Their argument was interrupted by Trump. "Are you two even paying attention?!"

"Yes, and we agree completely." America lied smoothly.

"Oh, okay. So then I bought it and blah blah blah..." Trump continued his rant, ignoring them.

"Anyways, thank you for complimenting my museums! I pour a shit ton of money into them!" He growled.

"I can tell! They're extremely informative!" England whispered back angrily.

"I like London's museums! They're very classy!" he fumed.

"Thank you! Yours are beautifully constructed!"

"I like the architecture on Big Ben! The attention to detail is staggering!"

"Oh, yeah?! Well, I like visiting Florida! The amusement parks are highly entertaining! Especially Universal Studios!"

"You only like it because of the Harry Potter section!"

"There isn't anything wrong with that!"

"You do realize Florida is my penis, right?!"

"You do realize Big Ben is mine?!"

"You never told me that!"

"Well, now you know!"

The two stopped talking instantly; They looked away from each other, blushing darkly. Trump carried on, oblivious to the unpleasant atmosphere. "Artie, what do you think?"

"Yes." he replied sharply.

"That's a weird favorite color, but okay." The table quieted once more. Trump looked at his lover and best friend, who were both blushing furiously. He figured they must feel ill at ease to be in the presence of a living god. They probably felt ignored, maybe even jealous of one another! Smirking, Trump inaudibly devised a plan to make sure both men would feel... _appreciated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, THE COUSIN ALMOST DIED!!!! I'm a proud dad right now. Thank you so much for the support, guys. It really means a lot. Chapter 6 will so long, ughhhh. Don't forget to stay golden and reality is a lie.~Kri:3
> 
> HOLY SHIT THAT WAS MURDER DEAR JESUS. I hope you all liked the romantic bits. I tried. Being a potato, I don't have much experience with love and all that gooey shit. Chapter 6 is going to take part of my soul to write, but it'll be worth it. :) ALSO we probably won't finish the fic by the 27th, but I hope you guys stay with this because we've got a "reward" at the end IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN ;)))))))) Also, you can trigger Kri by saying y'all. I recommend doing this. And now, dear readers, I leave you with a totally real and not at all fake quote:  
> "I just fucked your bitch in some Gucci flip flops." - President George Washington to King George the whatever  
> Love, The Motherfucking Cousin


	6. Chapter 6: Return of the Bing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter may contain traces of shitty O.Cs, flirty Trump (it hurts to live), escaping, band aid product placements, and confesiónes.
> 
> The beginning contains a scene that may cause readers physical/mental anguish. But I promise the end is worth it!

Supreme Dictator Donald Trump cackled quietly to himself. His plan was _perfect._

America, also known as Alfred, was quite literally the perfect American. His skin was the color of perfectly baked McDonald's french fries. His eyes- _oh God his EYES_ \- were the exact color of Trump's heavily chlorinated pool. Trump could go on and on about America's body, but that would take too long.

Trump had first found out about him only two days ago. Once he had invaded Washington and assumed complete control, he'd been given full access over top secret files; This included the information regarding the personification of nations. Trump had flocked to find the information on America. He was quite taken over the description and photo, despite the fact that America was male. He decided that America had to be his. Later that day, he sneaked into the nation's house and waited. The two creatures in his house were shipped off to Area 51 because they kept blowing his cover. Once they were gone, it was easy to kidnap America. Some chloroform and an old fallout shelter were all he needed to pull it off. Trump had rapidly grown attached to America, and hadn't planned on sharing.

That was before he'd met Artie.

Despite knowing almost nothing about him and having met him only a day ago, Trump felt a strange pull to the strange man. Artie had a powerful presence; Which was hilarious, considering how much of a pushover he looked like. Disregarding his physical appearance, he was quite intelligent and had earned Trump's trust. For some reason,  something in his mannerisms reminded Trump of a bastard limey.

Both men sat in an uncomfortable silence. Trump was about to carry out his plan when America abruptly stood up. "Where's your bathroom?"

 _Perfect._ "Down the hall, to the right. Do hurry back~..." Trump purred. He signaled a nearby worker and whispered something to him as America left. He gave England a strange smirk before returning to his meal.

Meanwhile, England's mind raced. _Did he just-? Did that just-? Does he like me as well? What the HAP IS FUCKENING?_

"Artie? What's on your mind?" Trump asked, leaning in too close.

England scooted away from him a tiny bit. "Nothing."

"Oh? It looked like you were thinking about something... _dirty._ " smiled Trump, a twinkle in his eye.

England suppressed a shiver of disgust. _Damn it, America! Hurry the hell up!_

A man suddenly came over and whispered something to Trump. His grin grew even wider. Trump rose from his seat. "I have to prepare something. I'll be back soon."

England waited at the table for a few more minutes, growing more and more suspicious. Something was definitely up; There was no sign of America or Trump coming back. He discreetly sipped one of the steak knives into his pocket. He wasn't sure what was going on, but there was no way in hell he'd let himself be ambushed by Trump.

Suddenly, he felt someone tap his shoulder. "Mr. Trump will see you now. Go up the stairs and enter the second door on the left." deadpanned a very tired looking servant.

Gripping the knife's handle, England searched the lower floor for the stairs. After getting lost a couple times, he managed to find his way to the room. England could hear muffled shouts from behind the ornately designed door. He knocked hesitantly, holding his breath. England slowly turned the door knob, bracing himself for the worst.

But nothing could prepare him for the mind altering reality that lay just beyond the door...

"Welcome, Artie~" There on the bed, wearing nothing but a star spangled thong, was Trump.

England's stomach lurched, and it took all of his willpower not to puke all over the expensive rug. Try as he might, it was impossible to look away from the horrifying sight. He managed to tear away his vision from Trump long enough to see America. He was tied to the back of the bed with a gag in his mouth; His face was a perfect description of mortal terror and revulsion. America, it seems, had gotten the worst view.

The thong-clad man noticed England staring at the tied up man. "He was trying to escape."

England laughed nervously. _I actually want to die._

"So!" Trump said, clapping his hands together. "Who's topping?"

A faint scream came from America. He was shaking his head violently.

"I guess Artie will top then!" shrugged Trump.

America snorted loudly before breaking out into muffled laughter. The bed shook slightly.

England scowled at him. "Shut it, America, or else we'll both go in at the same time!" he snapped. America went dead silent.

"Haha! You tell 'im! Although, that doesn't sound too bad..." mused Trump, scratching his leg. "Welp, I'm ready. Get on with it, Artie!"

England gulped in horror at the situation. He searched the room, looking for anything to stop this. He finally got an idea when his eyes landed on a table lamp. "Before we start, I'll need you to close your eyes, _Supreme Dictator~_ " he purred.

Trump squealed in delight, closing his eyes and sitting up quickly. "I didn't know you were into this kinda stu-" But Trump never got to finish because England struck him on the head with the lamp. Trump collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed America, despite being gagged. "That was brutal!"

England hastily cut off the zip ties holding America.  "We need to go right now!" He yanked America's arm, trying to dash out of the room.

America didn't budge. "Dude, chill! He's out cold, we don't need to rush. It's not like he has some sensor on him that tells his guards when he's been injured, right?"

Just then, a shrill alarm went off, jolting them both. "I guess you were wrong, git!" With that, the pair tore out of the room and into the hall.

Unfortunately, England couldn't keep up with America's super sonic speed and fell behind. "Slow down, wanker!" he wheezed, feeling a sharp pain in his side. America turned on his heel and jogged back to England. Grabbing the Brit's arm, he flung him over his shoulder and sprinted back to the correct direction.

Guards advanced on either side, carrying pistols. As two groups of guards were about to close in on them, America turned sharply; both groups slammed into each other while America cackled triumphantly. A few of them had escaped the accident and continued to chase them. They seemed to be growing tired of the chase scene, as one of the guards shot at the escaping nations. England winced as he felt a sharp sting against his cheek.

"Don't let 'em escape! Shoot them, if necessary!" came a voice from someone's walkie-talkie. This was all the encouragement the embarrassed guards needed. Multiple shots rang out. America sped up, bolting around any corner he came across. More guards seemed to appear from out of nowhere. Despite the danger of the situation, America couldn't deny the rush he was feeling. It was like he was in his own action movie! He grinned at the thought. Now all he needed was some convenient escape method and they'd be golden. Rushing around another corridor, his wish was answered; A huge crystal window lay dead ahead.

"Hey dude! I know how we're going to escape! We're going through that big ass window!"

"Are you insane?!" shouted the protesting Bit. "This isn't bloody Die Hard!"

"They're gaining on us! So, if you don't want glass in your asshole, I suggest you change positions!" beamed America. Reluctantly, England slid down onto America's hip and held onto him tightly.

At least 20 men were close behind the two. They tried shooting at America, but he ran in a zig-zag. One tried to throw a flash bang, but it backfired and ended up blinding at least 10 of them. The hall was filled with swearing and shouts of "Way to fucking go, Jerry!".

The window was 5 yards away, prompting America to somehow go even faster. A few guards tried desperately to grab hold of them, but they were too late. America leaped through the window as if it were air. America whooped with joy while England screamed in terror. After a few seconds, they both realized just how high up they were. Gravity dragged then downward rapidly. Just as they started to panic, they both suddenly stopped. The pair had landed in a tree. Both sat there, catching their breath for a moment. Then America burst out laughing. "That was freaking AWESOME!"

"Are you serious?! We could've died!"

"But we didn't~!" He grinned. "Hey, you gonna let go?" England still clung to him tightly, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. America tried to ignore how nice it felt to have England this close. He tried and failed miserably.

"If you drop me, I will never forgive you."

"Sure, sure. I'll- OH NO I DROPPED YOU-Wait, what the fuck?" America had attempted to drop him, but England hung on somehow.

"Joke's on you! I have amazing thigh strength!"

"Oh? Then I guess that means you have thunder thighs."

"O-oi! Are you calling me fat, you cheeseburger fuck?!" cried England, turning pink.

"No. What I'm saying is if your thighs are thunder, then your ass is lightning! BAM!" America yelled, slapping England hard on the ass.

England yelped and was so startled that he let go of him and fell out of the tree. "IGGY HOLY SHIT!" shrieked America, jumping to the ground. "OHMYGOD YOU'RE DEA-oh wait. Never mind." England was dazed but otherwise okay. "Come on, lightning, they're tailing us!" Helping him up, they both broke into a run. America decided to go a little slower so that England could keep up with him. However, England still fell far behind. America ran back to him and grabbed his hand. "Now, I know what this looks like, bbut it's just to help you out-"

"Uh, America?"

"Seriously, this isn't gay at all. Why would I want to hold your hand, hahah? WHOA! Your hands are super soft!!"

"America-!"

"Dude, what lotion do you use, they're so smooth! Like, cheese or something."

"America!"

"I'm not hitting on you! That's crazy, hahaha! That would be so weird, right? Please say no-"

"America! There's a spotlight on us." A helicopter hovered above them, shining a massive light on them.

"Oh shit! GOTTA GO FAST!" He shouted. America caught sight of the massive entrance gate surrounded by flags. They ran towards the gate, which was starting to close. A sea of slowly advancing guards shot at them, but seemed to conveniently miss them completely. Unfortunately, the pair didn't make it to the gate in time. The gate slammed shut with the sharp creaking of rusty metal;They were trapped.

"Hold on, I've got an idea!" England called out. He jogged up to the fence and shimmied in between the bars easily.

"Oh sweet! Lemme try!" Crouching slightly, America attempted to go through the fence. Halfway through, he got stuck. "Iggy, help me!"

"How did you get stuck?! It's because of those damn burgers you insist on eating!"

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not some skinny bitch like you!"

"Watch it! Which one of us is stuck in a fence?"

"...OkayI'msorryjusthalpmeplz."

After America was freed (with some difficulty), the pair continued their escape. They kept going until America spotted a small patch of woods. Dashing into the grove, America found a place they could hide in. In between the trees, they could see the glaring spotlights and the legion of guards searching for them. Evidently, no one had thought to check the woods. Hundreds of flashlight beams shone in the distance. A few gun shots ran out, but most of the commotion was drowned out by the roar of the helicopters."We should keep moving and try to find a road." whispered England.  They got up and wandered off into the trees.

It turns out that the "small patch of woods" was actually apart of a massive forest. Needless to say, they were both soon completely lost. After stumbling around in the darkness for about two hours, America started to get annoyed. " _Let's go deeper into the spooky forest._ He said. _We'll find the road soon!_ He said." America mocked, putting on a terrible British accent.

"Oi! I don't see YOU trying to help out!"

"Am too! You're distracting me with your yakking!" 

"What?! I've barely said anything!"

"You keep muttering stuff like  _Oh~, maybe it's this way!_ and  _Oh, blast it! Where's my bloody tea and crumpets?_ "

"Alright then, Mr. Eagle Scout! I'll shut up if you can get us out of here!"

"I can and I will!" huffed America, crouching. He scooped up a handful of dirt and inhaled its scent. Closing his eyes for a moment, he sat silently. "The road's that way!" he said, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Oh, bullshit- wait. WAIT. WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU WEARING?" England had apparently just noticed that America was wearing the daisy dukes Trump had picked out for him.

"I've had these on since I was tied up to the bed, dude. How did you not notice?" he chuckled. "....It's 'cause I was bending over, isn't it?"

"D-Don't be ridiculous! Why would I look there?"  

"Because you like my delicious sesame seed buns?" America reasoned, wiggling his butt slightly.

" As if! What gave you that idea?" he scoffed.

"Well, you _did_ kiss me, for one thing."

"Whatever! Let's get going, idiot!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 minutes later, and they had found a road leading out of the forest. "See! Told ya!" America laughed, puffing out his chest in pride.

England gaped at him. "How the actual fuck did you do that?!"

"It's just my natural instincts, dude!" he boasted, a convenient gust of wind blowing through his hair. After a few minutes, they walked out of the woods completely. There was a lot more light, causing America to notice something. "Oh, shit! Artie, your face is bleeding!"

"Hm...? Oh, yeah, I've been bleeding for awhile now. A bullet must've grazed me. Oh well." England said causally.

"Why didn't you say something?!" yelled America, searching his pockets.

"I didn't think it mattered!"

"It does to me...Aha!" America exclaimed, pulling out a box of Captain America band-aids.

"You carry band-aids with you?"

"But, of course! I am an Eagle Scout after all!" he said, striking a heroic pose. He placed the bandage on his cheek."Voila~! Hey, Artie, do you want me to kiss it better?"

England blushed. "Knock it off, git!" he yelled, hitting America lightly on the arm.

"I'm just teasing you!" America chuckled, ruffling England's hair.

They continued to walk quietly for a few minutes. The atmosphere was pleasant, but there was an unspoken tension between the two. England couldn't help but feel strange. America had been acting differently since the kiss. Deciding to confront the issue, he spoke up. "How come you're being so friendly towards me?

America stopped dead in his tracks. "Isn't it obvious?"

"What do you mean?" Had England missed something?

"I'm totally hard for you, bro!" America exclaimed, exasperated.

England furrowed his brow in confusion. "What? That doesn't make any sense!"

America sighed heavily and moved in front of him. "Look, like I know we're friends or allies or whatever, but I just- I mean like sometimes it's like "ooh yeah"but then you're like "WHOA DUDE"and I'm like "wtf" and then you _KISS ME_ and then I just- and then you friggin' and I- UGH!" he threw up his hands in frustration. "Why can't I just say it?!"

England held up his hand. "Take your time, America."

"God, don't call me that! Aren't we closer than this?!"

"A-alright...Alfred, just tell me what you were trying to say." he stuttered, turning pink.

America took a deep, shaky breath. "I know we've had our differences and our fights with each other. And I know that you may just see me as just some obnoxious ass hat. But... I can't take it anymore! Ever since World War 1, we've gotten a lot closer. After saving each others' asses so many times, we became friends. At first, I was fine just being allies. Then, something changed. I started noticing, well, you; Not England, but Artie! So I tried to get to know you better by asking you questions and other ice breaker crap. But, whenever I tried to talk to you, you'd always act really weird."

"You asked me what my favorite McDonald's meal was! What kind of ice breaker is that?!" England interrupted.

"IT'S A VALID QUESTION! ANYWAYS- Then I tried getting into the stuff you were into, like The Beatles and Harry Potter. Admittedly, those are both fucking awesome, but it was nice to talk to you about something that didn't involve politics or us arguing. After a while, I thought it was working; Maybe you liked me back! But then, for some reason, you started acting all grumpy. No matter what I did, you'd get pissed; I didn't know what the hell I even did! I started losing hope and eventually tried to give up. But I couldn't. I couldn't because I li-...Anyways, now I don't now what the fuck to do! It's all so confusing because you kissed me right the fuck out of nowhere and I'm like, "he likes me?? No?? Okay.", but I'm not sure if it's platonic and then you let me slap your ass even though you normally would've killed me and I just really want to say how I feel and I'm so unsure of what to do and I lik-. Ahem. I li-Wait, no. What I'm trying to say is that I really lo- GOD FUCKING SHIT!" he screamed, clawing at himself. Angry, hot tears welled up in his eyes.

"Alfre-" England began, trying to pull America's hands away from his face.

"No!" America yelled, slapping England's hands away. He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. " Just...I can do this." He took another shuddering breath and looked England straight in the eyes. "I've been meaning to tell you this at the right time. But, you know what? Fuck it. I've been putting off saying this for too long. What I've been trying to tell you for the past 75 years is that...What I've been trying to say is... I want to..." He trailed off, trying hard to keep himself calm. Sighing once more, he stepped in closer to England. Putting his hand on the Brit's shoulder, he refused to make eye contact. Cheeks burning, he whispered, " I love you, Arthur."

Neither of them made a sound for a couple minutes. America waited, heart beating out of control. But England said nothing; He didn't even move. Despair rose up in America, thinking England was silently rejecting him. "God damn it, please say something!" he practically sobbed, tears falling down his cheeks. 

Then, he felt it. A feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth. He looked to see England, who was bright red but giving him a sincere smile. England leaned up close to him and said, in a soft voice, "Silly Alfred, I've always loved you." England then wiped away some of the tears on America's face and kissed him again, this time on the lips. "Obviously, my romantic feelings didn't appear until you were all grown up. It started out as a small crush, but it grew stronger over time. I think it was during the first World War when I fell in love with you. Even though I did most of the fighting, you supported me through out; I've always appreciated that. I tried to ignore my feelings for you as long as I could, but they became stronger every year. The reason I've been acting so coldly is because I thought you wouldn't ever feel the same way. But, over the course of the evening, I've found that I was totally wrong. I really do love you, and I'm so happy you feel the same way." England beamed at him, misty-eyed. 

As what he said sunk in, America's eyes widened joyfully. He picked England up and swung him around in the air. Burying his face in the Brit's hair, he smiled. "I've been waiting decades to hear that!"

England snorted. "I'm sorry, but that's ridiculously cheesy!"

"Aw, fuck you!"

"Hm, maybe later.." said England, giving him a suggestive look.  

America smirked and touched his forehead against England's. He then leaned in and gently kissed his partner on the mouth. England tensed up at first, but relaxed in no time at all. The kiss quickly got more heated as America sucked on Iggy's bottom lip. England opened his mouth and America's tongue entered. As tongues twirled, England wrapped his legs around the other's torso. America held him with one hand resting on his lower back. The other hand moved down to grope England's perky ass.  He continued to do this for a while, his hand gradually making its way toward England's front. They were suddenly interrupted by a loud "HONK" and America screeched, dropping the man.

A black Chrysler was parked behind them, flashing its headlights. The driver side window rolled down, revealing none other than Mark Bingham. Wiggling his eyebrows at the couple, he called out, "Need a ride?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I expected. Good news I'm back home so yeah. I guess that's why this took so long but whateves. I actually wrote the make out scene so I'm sorry for everything. Right now I'm writing chap 10 and must say, shit is getting real. BTW... THANKS FOR 50 KUDOS!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! so, next goal is 75. Anyway I'm glad you are enjoying this; and please keep commenting, I'm an attention whore. So yeah, that's all for now. Stay golden <3 Kri 
> 
> OKAY FIRST OFF: So sorry about the goddamn TRUMP ASS OH JEEZ  
> Secondly: Yeah, we put Mark Bingham in this. Deal with it.  
> Thirdly: HOLY FUCK THANKS FOR 50 KUDOS WTF WHY DO YOU GUYS LIKE THIS BUT THANKS MUCH  
> Fourth: This took forever. Like, holy fucking shit why. But, hey. The next chapters should be quicker to type up?  
> Fifth: Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the love stuff in this! If you don't like it, then idk skip it. As always, we appreciate you all. Thanks my dudes. ~The MF Cousin


	7. O Obama, Obama, wherefore art thou Obama?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! THIS CHAPTER MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF: Quality Inns, Shitty OCs, little bit of RoChu, sleep deprivation, and so much dialogue goddamn I hope you like DIALOGUE CUZ WE GOT IT OUT THE WAZOO.
> 
> heh heh heh heh  
> wazoo  
> 

Readjusting his rear view mirror, Mark peered back at the two flustered men. Both sat as far apart from each other as possible. England scowled at him, muttering some made up incantation under his breath. A scandalized America attempted to hide his face in his shirt, but failed miserably. Mark snickered loudly before turning his attention back to the road. "Sorry for breaking up your little tryst, but I didn't want you getting recaptured."

"How much did you see?" snarled England, wiggling his fingers as if he were casting a spell.

"From when you two started confessing all your gooey feelings to  _that._ Which, in all honesty, was quite entertaining to watch. Also, I didn't know you were that flexible, boss."

"You cheeky twat!" England shouted, attempting to get out of his seat and throttle Mark. 

"LANGUAGE! Goodness, how crude of you! Are you not a gentleman?" Mark fake gasped, wagging his finger disapprovingly.

"I'll show you gentleman!" England mumbled, leaping out of his seat to maim his driver.

Unfortunately, he was grabbed around the middle by America and forced to sit down. "Dude, chill!" America laughed, barely restraining his partner.

"Thank you, at least  _someone_ here is decent!" Mark teased, grateful that he wasn't being beaten to death. His smile faded when he saw what America was wearing. "What are you...?"

"Daisy Dukes."

"...But...Why though?"

"Trump."

"Ohh. Yeah, that makes sense. You might wanna change; I can kinda see your Quesarito, if you know what I mean."

"To be honest, these things are way too small on me. They'd probably fit on Twinkie over here." America said, gesturing to England.

"OI! I AM NOT A BLOODY TWINK! I AM A FORMER PIRATE WHO USED TO OWN YOU AND THE ENTIRE BLEEDING PLANET, WHIPPERSNAPPER!" England bellowed, whacking America repeatedly.

"Well that sounds kinky...and illegal" Mark piped up, ignoring America's cries for help.

America tried to defend himself against the insulted Brit. "That's not what I meant- ow, Jesus!" He finally managed to catch England's hands, preventing him from further assault. "I meant that you're small, yellow, and precious to Americans everywhere!" He said, causing England's expression to quickly soften. "...And that you'll be filled with my cream very soon."

It took a second for England to understand the implication. "You bloody pervert!" He wailed, kicking at him. The car suddenly swerved violently. England latched onto America and yelled, "Jesus, Mark! Watch the road, are you trying to kill us?!"

"S-sorry boss! It's just-!" Mark interrupted himself by letting out a howl of laughter. Slapping his knee, he panted out,  "I'm gonna have to use that one hohmygod!" After 5 minutes of continuous of ugly laughter, he regained control over the vehicle. 

"Are you done?" England sighed, glaring at Mark. His driver gave him a quick nod before giggling quietly.

"Hey, uh, Iggy?" America tapped him on the shoulder. "Can you get off? I'm kinda going commando." He shifted uncomfortably.

"S-sure...Wait, why the hell aren't you wearing any underwear?!" 

"Because heroes ALWAYS go commando!" he stated proudly, puffing out his chest. "Also, I tend to chafe."

 Mark coughed loudly, signaling that he still had more crap to say. "So, uh, getting back to the original topic, I am sorry for interrupting. Kinda. I figured you'd be upset of I let you guys get kidnapped by Trump, again, while shagging on the side of the road."

"Watch your language, Mark!" chided England, turning beet red.

"You swear all the time! Lay off him, babe." said America, tossing his arm casually around England.

"...Since when am I  _babe?!_ "

"Since we became a thing. Are we not a thing? 'Cause I think what we were doing qualifies us to be a thing.

England threw up his hands in uncertainty. "I-I don't know! It's been a very long time since I've dated anyone. Usually you're supposed to get to know the person before making the next step."

"I HAVE LITERALLY KNOWN YOU MY WHOLE LIFE! THAT'S OVER 300 FUCKING YEARS, IGGY! THE "GETTING TO KNOW YOU" PART SHOULD BE OVER BY NOW!" yelled America, shaking him harshly by the shoulders.

"ALRIGHT THEN, YOU OBNOXIOUS BURGER! WHAT DO YOU PROPOSE WE DO NOW?" England shouted, matching America's volume.

"Each other?" Mark quietly suggested.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, MARK!" Both nations shouted in unison.

"WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT? I THINK YOU SHOULD BE MY BOYFRIEND!" America hollered, slightly startling England.

"OH, YEAH? THAT SOUNDS BLOODY FANTASTIC!"

"GREAT!" Both nations quieted immediately. After a few moments, America's hand crept towards England's and squeezed it. A smile ghosted the Brits face as he held his newly appointed boyfriend's hand. While they were enjoying the moment, a squeaky "awww!" came from the front seat. "Hey, how did you even find us?" America blurted out.

"Oh, it was super easy! The Queen put tracking devices in Mr. Kirkland's clothing!" Marl cheerily answered.

"...Mark, you do realize I changed clothes?" 

The car quickly slowed slowed down, making a slight screeching noise. "Uh...The hole in the ozone layer was caused by the magic bullet that killed John F. Kennedy?" Mark slammed on the accelerator, knuckles turning white. "So, besides illegal government activities, what else do you want to know?"

"Where are we even going?" yawned England, who had inched slightly closer to America.

"A hotel. It's what, 1 a.m? I dunno, but fear not! It's a fantastic, highly recommended resort-only the best for you two!"

America gave his boyfriend a suggestive wink before pulling him closer. "What's it called?"

"The Quality Inn!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pair stood outside of the hotel in mild horror. The moon illuminated the horrible appearance of the inn. Thick layers of mold grew out of several large cracks in the building's exterior. Broken beer bottles and hypodermic needles littered the patchy grass. There was an audible crash as a person was thrown out of a window. England whipped his head around to give Mark a withering look. His assistant grinned and said, "I'll pick you kids up tomorrow. We'll figure out how to fuck up Trump tomorrow and you know, save the freaking country from being plunged into 7 major wars. Hell, maybe Obama is still alive! G'night, and use protection!" He waved happily to them before racing off into the night. 

"I am going to kill him someday, I swear..." muttered England as he dragged a panicked America inside. The hotel's interior was shoddy as well. The air was musty and yellowed, smelling faintly of old cigarettes. The carpet was oddly stained and worn down. A surly receptionist gave both countries a disgusted look when they entered together. After haggling with the manager for their room keys, the couple managed to finally reach their room. America instantly flopped down onto the dusty bed, letting out a strangled cry of glee.

"I can feel the bed bugs crawling into my skin, but I don't give a shit." he groaned, burying his face into the comforter.

England sat down primly next to him, taking off his shoes. "I wouldn't do that. The sheets don't look like they've been washed ever."

"I don't caaarrreee! 'M so tired I could fall asleep here forever." He whined, crawling under the bedding. "Artiiiieee~ C'mere!" He batted his eyes at the Brit and held his arms wide open. England smiled briefly and turned off the light. America yanked England into his arms and rested his chin on his shoulder. England protested but quickly gave in. "M'kay goodniiiiiiiighhhttt~!" They shortly fell into a well earned sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Much too soon, the couple was awakened by the phone ringing. "Huurrghhh.....Artiiiee...get the phooneee.."

"No...You get it. 'Ts on your side, innit?"

"Artie pleeaassee"

"Noooo."

"Whyyy?"

"Because 'm older than you...Respect your elders, bitch."

"Ughh, FINE!" America blindly grabbed the phone, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "Oh my God whAAATTT?" he half yelled.

"Aiyah! Mind your manners, America!" shouted a familiar voice.

"God fucking damn it, do you know what time it is, China?" growled America, rubbing his eyes.

"It's early evening in Beijing. And watch your language, you're on speaker!" 

"Th' fuck does China want at 5 in the bloody morning?" complained England, who was cuddled up next to America.

"I don't fucking know, Artie!"

"AIYAH! ARE YOU WITH ENGLAND?! AT A HOTEL?! TOGETHER? IN A BED?! TOGETHER?! HOW INDECENT, ARU!" screamed a very flustered China.

"If that was indecent, then what was last night?" questioned a heavily accented voice from the phone.

"Stay out of this!!" screeched China.

America cracked up. "Dude, you slept with Russia? Haha! Have fun trying to walk, bro!"

"I-it's not like that! Shut up!!"

"We have slept together 17 times this month and have been dating for 3 years, Yao. I am thinking it is like that."

"It's been 6 years, get your memory straight! It's all because of your president, aru."

"You aren't allowed to talk bad about Mr. Putin in my country..."

"Well, I am in my country so I do as I please!"

"But I  _am_ my country, so stop."

"Guys, guys. Can you shut the hell up and tell me why you called me at this ungodly hour?"

"Oh, yeah. We found your president." China casually responded.

America bolted upright. "Why didn't you open with that?!"

"Hmph! I wanted to be polite, unlike you, Mr. 'Ugh, whaAAT??'" scolded China, mocking America's accent.

"Actually, I found him!" Russia chimed in.

"Good for you, buddy. Just send him back as soon as possible. Okay? Okay bye-"

"Wait! Aren't you wanting to know how I discovered him?"

"Not really, but you're going to tell me anyways, aren't you?"

" _Da_ _!_ So, it all started when I broke into China's house yesterday. At first he was mad, but he got over it because we had great se-"

"AIYAH! DON'T TELL THEM THAT!"

"...Fine. The next day, I get bored because China is still asleep. I then realize there is still a lot of glass shard from when I broke in, so I decide to sweep it up. When I go to the broom closet, I hear muffled screaming. I didn't remember hiding anyone in there, so this was pretty suspicious. I open it, and there sits a man. His hair was really gray and he was gagged with a wad of money. I say to him, " _Privyet!_ Who are you?" The man doesn't respond, so I try again. He hears me this time and looks up. There was a lot of fear in his eyes. I say, "It is alright. I am not going to hurt you. I don't even have my pipe, see?" The man seemed to calm down, so I asked him "Who are you?" And he said, " I'm President Barack Obama from the United States." And I go-"

"Wait. Wait. Wait. Stop. Hold on." America interrupted, massaging his temples. "What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Were you trying to do an American accent? 'Cause that was shit. Even Artie's wasn't that bad. Granted, it was awful, but I digress."

"Oh, fuck you." grumbled England, putting a pillow over his head.

"Later, okay babe?"

"ANYWAYS..." Russia said threateningly. "I go "Oh, you are America's president,  _da?_ How unfortunate." And he gives a weak smile and goes, "Yes, sir. I do apologize for his arrogant behavior." "

"Bull-fucking-shit he said that! Obama LOVES me!"

"He did say that. You are not calling me a liar, da?"

"Just finish up the sodding story!"

"So, anyways, I say to him, "He is very troublesome. Why do you put up with him?" And he tells me, "He is a very hard worker and has a good heart. He just gets a little carried away sometimes." "

"See! I told you he loved me!"

" **Stop interrupting me, America.** " Even from a couple thousand miles away, America could feel the sudden chill from Russia's mood. " Mr. Obama then looks at me and goes, "You must be Russia! Pleased to meet you." He gives me this big smile. It was like the one you do, except it didn't make him look like a _mudak._ He looks at me and says, "That is a lovely scarf. Michelle wanted one like that, but it looks great." And I say, "Thank you. Ukraine gave it to me." Then we got into a really long conversation. He is a nice man. He even gave me relationship advice! Then China woke up and saw this and started yelling in Mandarin. The end!"

"Great freaking story, compadre. Really compelling. Well worth all the sleep I'm missing. Wait...how did you guys even get this number?"

"I have secret spy technology that tracks your every move. All your stuff is made in my country after all!" China gloated.

"Holy shit, are you serious?!" panicked America.

"Of course not. As far as you know, at least. Anyways, we will send your president back to you as soon as possible. Good night, you stupid westerners!" China quickly hung up.

America stared at the phone in his hand, puzzled. "Do you think China was being serious?"

"Who cares? Go the fuck to sleep!" England half shouted, shoving America back down into the bed. Once again, the pair fell back to sleep in no time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
America awoke to the blinding sunlight coming through the torn blinds. He slowly sat up when he heard a noise of protest. England's head had been resting peacefully on his chest, completely curled up next to him. America barely resisted the urge to squeal at the cuteness. He instead pecked him on the forehead, causing the Brit to fully wake up. England gave him a grumpy look but snuggled back up to him. "G' morning."

America gave him a ridiculously sunny smile and pulled the elder into a hug. "How many diseases do ya think we caught from here?"

England snorted. "Dunno, but I'm just glad your people haven't shot us by now." He earned a small laugh from his boyfriend. The two laid in each other's arms, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Things had been absolutely insane, so it was a blessing just to get a few minutes of quiet.

All good things must come to an end, however. The couple was interrupted by Mark suddenly appearing from the bathroom. "You guys are too cute. Stop it." he said, somehow brushing his teeth.

"You're lucky I haven't shot you yet." groaned England, annoyed at the interruption.

"Don't kill the guy who helped get you laid, sir."

"You give yourself too much credit. How'd you even get in here?"

"You guys left your door unlocked. Actually...Yeah. The door doesn't have a lock. Weird."

"Well, that's bloody brilliant..."

"Sorry for breaking in, but I came in to collect you all. And to make sure you haven't been killed yet. Also, Obama's been found."

"Oh, we know. China called us in the middle of the night to let us know. I'm pretty sure they have super secret NSA technology. Which is so not cool! I'm the only one who should be spying on everyone!" grimaced America.

"Well, Obama is currently on his way to D.C. He'll probably give some long, plot-heavy speech and finish out his term. I suspect Trump will be disqualified for kidnapping the president, leaking confidential information about the human forms of nations, and for holding the United States hostage." Mark explained. "Once you two lovebirds get ready, I'll drive you all to wherever you want."

"I just wanna go home, to be honest. You going to join me?" America glanced over to England.

He gave him a sweet smile. "Of course, love."

"Wow, boss. You must really love this guy to use such a dorky pet name."

"Shut your trap, Mark!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things are finally looking up for our heroes. It's not like anything bad can happen now, right?

_...Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo. One chapter closer. I just finished writing chapter 10 so I have to type that up soon. That's going to be a challenge since i type soooo slow. Excuse my bitching. But yeah. This story has been suuuuper fun and I'm glad you are enjoying it so much. Thank you for all the kudos and comments. It's nice to be loved. Please continue with the love, it's a good motivator. As always, stay golden. <3 Kri 
> 
> I'm really sorry this took so fucking long! I had to edit the rough draft and I had the WORST writer's block :/  
> As always, thanks again for all the kudos and lovely comments! Chapter 8 might take awhile to write up. Chapter 9 will be a bitch to upload, too. I kinda want this to be done by the end of this month, but it probably won't happen. Remember: Obama means family. (I'm tired okay don't judge me) ~The Cousin


	8. Trumptations Part 3: Revenge of the Drumpf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, this chapter may contain traces of the following: Slightly less shitty O.Cs, Drama (oh shit b0i), "violence", and an anime transformation sequence.  
> Wait...hold on.. There's something else in here, too!. . . D R U M P F T A T I O N S . . . ?

The Inn was peculiarly quiet that morning. Other then a man breaking into one of the hotel rooms, there had been no major incidents. This was especially odd, considering it was the 4th of July weekend. Usually, rednecks busted up the place with their off-key singing and prized shotguns. The hotel manager shrugged, pulling out another cigarette. As she took a long drag, the doors suddenly burst open. 12 men, all dressed in dark suits, entered the lobby abruptly. A few patrons at the cheap breakfast bar looked up to see what the commotion was. One of the men started shouting. "All four of you,  go survey the lobby. Question everyone and everything you find. Team Wall, it is your job to guard "The Man". As for the rest of you...pretend you're useful. I shall head the investigation." The so-called "lead investigator" marched over to the manager. "Excuse me, m'am, but I need to ask you a few questions." The manager shrugged, giving him a non verbal go ahead. "Right. Have you seen either of these men?" The investigator held up two photographs. One was of man with terrifyingly large eyebrows and a bitchy expression. The other was a man that had a shit-eating grin and a gravity defying cowlick.

The manager studied the photos carefully. "I seen 'em. Came in late last night." 

"Can you tell me a little more than that?" The investigator pressed.

Puffing on her cigarette, she simply shook her head. "Nah. Strict privacy rules here; I can't help ya. Unless you got a little..."incentive."" 

Sighing in frustration, the man pulled out his wallet. He slammed six dollars onto the counter. "That's all the cash I got." The manager eyed the money for a few moments before shaking her head. Rolling his eyes, he started, "Look lady I don't wanna have to hurt you, but I wi-"

"Let  _me_ handle this." came a voice from inside the protective ring of guards.

"But sir! That is completely against protocol!"

"Which one of us ran  _The Apprentice?_ Lemme outta here!" The guards parted, letting "The Man" through.

The manager gasped in delight. "Mr. Trump?! Oh my jeez, is that really you?"

Flipping his toupee, he gave the woman a "dazzling" grin. "In the flesh,  _gorgeous._ "

The manager giggled, twirling her hair. "How may I be of service today?"

Trump let out a Walrus-like laugh. "Well, I've got a problem. I've been looking everywhere for those two men and I need all the information I can get on them."

"Oh, of course, sweet potato! Here's what I know: The two came in around 2 a.m. last night, carrying no luggage. They walked suspiciously close together, I swear they was holdin' hands." Trump frowned slightly, but the woman carried on. "They stayed in room 400, which is in the nicest part of the hotel. There's little to no bloodstains there, and it's relatively clean most of the time. Anyways, here's where I got suspicious- Room 400 has only ONE bed."

Trump's eyes widened in horror. "O-one?"

"I know, it's gro-" But she was cut off by the eerie look on Trump's face. " Mister Trump...?"

"...A-Artie...slept with...my man... _MY_ man...?" His body started shaking like an offended Chihuahua. A shadow seemed to have passed over his features, dusting his cheddar complexion a sickly gray. He suddenly dropped to his knees, hyperventilating. _She must be wrong! Artie wouldn't do that! Artie wouldn't..!_ He flashed back to the brief moments all three of them had shared. Trump remembered the strange connection between Artie and  _his_ America. Those long glances at each other, the whispering, the escape...It all made sense. Trump felt his heart shatter in fury. That _whore_ had stolen his man! He let out a roar of anger, punching the ground hard. Trump sprang to his feet, declaring, "ARTIE JONES, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND DESTROY YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO! TONIGHT, WE RIDE!" Trump sprinted out of the hotel, leaving everyone dumbfounded.

"Wait, Sir! How are we even supposed to find him?!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP AND BRING ME A GODDAMN TACO BOWL! I'M GETTIN' THE SWEATS!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The countryside whizzed past in a blur of red, white, and blue. Everywhere, American flags stood on the side of the road, waving proudly. The radio played a constant loop of the most patriotic songs, which America sang to horrendously. After the third rendition of  _Proud To Be An American,_ England snapped. "Will you shut the fuck up already?!"

"Aww, what's the matter, babe? Upset that you lost the Revolution?" America teased, poking England in the ribs.

England felt a surge of despair. This time of year was already hard enough for him without America rubbing it in. "Sod off!" he snarled, turning to look out the window.

"Oh, come on! I was just playin'!" he sighed, rubbing his partner's shoulder.

England said nothing, choosing to stare off into the distance.

"Baaaeeeebbbbeeee!" America whined. "Don't do this to me!" 

England still said nothing. He refused to give in so easily.

"If you don't talk to me, I'll start singing again!" There was a moment of dead silence. "...THE STARS AT NIGHT ARE BIG AND-!"

"OKAY FINE YOU WIN!" England shouted, covering America's mouth quickly. "Just don't sing those obnoxiously jingoistic songs!"

 "Can you all be quiet? You're going to want to hear this." Mark interrupted, turning up the volume. He switched to a news channel.

"-arrived five minutes ago. Obama is currently back at the White House, explaining the whole situation. From what we've gathered, President Obama was kidnapped by a group of men about a week ago and sent to China. It is unclear who these men were, but it is highly suspected that they worked for Supreme Dictator Donald Trump. Trump is not going to stay in power, however. Currently, he is the number one most wanted man in America. As soon as he is caught, President Obama will finish out his term. It is expected that Trump will be disqualified from the presidential election this fall. Let's switch to a live feed of Obama's speech-"

"-I am so happy to be back in the United States! I didn't think I could ever miss Capitalism as much as I did. Anyways, let me tell you. The atrocities committed by Mr. Trump shall not go unpunished!" The crowd roared with cheering and approval. 

"President Obama also proposed a plan to make the U.S-Russian relations tighter, saying he had a change of heart while in captivity. That's all for the information we have at the moment. Now back to Jim, with Sports-" The signal conveniently cut off, leaving only static.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived back at America's house in the afternoon. Before Mark left he called America over. "Happy early birthday!" He said, tossing a small box at the nation. Mark gave him a wink before driving off to who know's where. America eagerly unwrapped the present. 

It was a box of condoms with the Florida state flag printed on them.

After howling with laughter for a full minute, he noticed a small post-it note attached to the box. It read: 

_"Thanks for making my boss smile._

_-Mark._

_P.S. Can you guess what his favorite state is? ;P ....It's New Jersey._

_P.P.S. I'm just kidding. It's Florida."_

"What are you laughing at-oh." England asked, peering over his boyfriend's shoulder. He scowled at the sudden grin that appeared on America's face. "Absolutely not."

"Pleeeaaassee?"

"No way in Hell. Throw that box of shame out and let's go inside."

As they entered, America sighed in relief at seeing his house. However, the house felt strangely lonely without Tony and Whaley being around. America had secretly hoped that they had somehow came back. But, it was no use; There was no telling where they ended up. Along with the unnatural silence, there was something else off about the house. "Do you know if anyone came here after I was kidnapped? It looks kinda different." he asked, turning to England.

"Ah, yes, uhm...I came over here after the meeting. I wanted to apologise." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

America let out a delighted gasp. "Aw, babe~! You  _do_ care!" He pulled England into an overbearing hug.

"O-of course I do, you idiot! I even got you chocolate, but I wouldn't eat-" 

"You got me Hershey's?!? Ohmigod thank you!" He squealed, snatching the 3 day old chocolate off the table. Instead of eating it like a normal human being, America unhinged his jaw like a goddamn boa constrictor and swallowed the entire bar in a single bite

"What the unholy fuck was that?"

"I can dislocate my jaw, dude." America stated, as if it were a common ability.

"With all that crap food you eat, I shouldn't be surprised." 

"Well, food's not the ONLY thing it's useful for~" America gave him a flirty wink. England only stared blankly at him. "Oh, do you not get it? By food, I meant di-"

England stopped him, holding his hand up. "I know what you meant."

Thinking he had successfully seduced his boyfriend, America gave him a triumphant smile. "I'm gonna go take my shower. No peeking, hehe!"

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He returned 20 minutes later to find England waiting for him on the couch. America had "accidentally" forgotten his shirt, so he was clad only in his sweatpants. He smirked as he caught England staring at him. "Like what you see?" he taunted, striking a "sexy" pose.

England rolled his eyes, but a small smile played at his mouth. "Yes. I need to borrow some clothes by the way."

A devious expression formed on America's face. "Got you covered, babe!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

England clambered into the shower. It had been a very long 3 days, and it was nice to finally get some alone time. Not that he didn't enjoy America's company, it's just the nation could be a little overwhelming. It was leagues better than being ignored or worse, hated, by him. England's mind decided to punish him by reminding him of all the times America had acted that way. In some ways, England felt he hadn't deserved the animosity. Perhaps he shouldn't of taxed his colony so heavily, and maybe he should've had tighter control over his troops. But America didn't have to get so angry. He didn't have to go and get everyone's (including that damn frog's) help. He didn't have to go and leave him, just like everyone else- 

Someone pounded on the door. "Dude, you okay? You've been in there for, like, 45 minutes!" It was a very concerned sounding America.

"Shit! Yeah, sorry! I'll be out shortly." England called back. Had he really been brooding for that long?

"It's alright! Just wanted to make sure you weren't having a 'Nam flashback. The clothes are right outside the door." 

England quickly finished up, grabbing the clean clothes. As he got dressed, he mentally scolded himself for moping for so long. He turned to check his reflection, immediately regretting it. England looked like he was drowning in a fourth of July float. Every article was far too big on him and overly American. Grimacing, he went to rejoin his boyfriend.

America waited on the couch, sipping an old coke he still had left. He perked up at the sound of footsteps. America swallowed heavily at the sight of England. "That looks fantastic on you."

"You're a prick, you know that?" said England, sitting down next to him. 

America gave him a cheeky grin and pulled him close. He then started to talk about all sorts of random things, with England occasionally adding something. It was nice to be able to talk to him normally without any weird tension. He became so wrapped up in what he was saying that he barely noticed England growing gradually quieter. After finishing a long rant on why McDonald's should bring back the Super Size, he noticed England hadn't said anything. His partner simply stared off into space. "Yo, Artie! You there?" he called, waving his hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Wha-?" England jolted, blinking in confusion.

"Dude, you spaced out again. Are you okay? You've been acting more emo than usual." 

"It's, uh, nothing... I'm alright. Anyways, continue." He lied, hoping America would buy it.

"Oh, no you don't! Tell me what's wrong!"

"Look, it's not important."

"It is to me!"

"Alfred, please-"

"Uh-uh. I'm your boyfriend and I care about you, so tell me why you've been so sad today." 

"...You're just going to get upset with me."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"Fine..." England sighed and maneuvered himself to fully face America. "It's just always hard for me around your birthday. It reminds me of a certain event that I'd rather forget.."

"Are you seriously still upset about that?! It was over 350 years ago!" America rolled his eyes in frustration.

"So what if I am?! It was a very painful time for me!"

"I understand, but I don't get why you're still holding a grudge about it!"

"It's not a grudge, per se-"

"It totally is! You've refused to come to any of my birthday parties and you're always super mean to me around this time!"

"Alright, fine! Maybe I am!"

"But why? I've apologized over and over again for hurting you! What else do you want me to do?!"

"How about you apologize for turning literally everyone against me just so you could fuck off!"

"Whoa! Hold the fuck up! How did I turn everyone against you if they hated you in the first place?!" He yelled. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He immediately regretted it, clasping his hand over his mouth.

England looked like he had just been shot. "A-Alfred...How c-could you...?" he choked out, trying very hard not to cry.

"Oh my God, I-I'm so sorry!" He tackled England in a hug. 

"Get the fuck off me!" England pounded his fists against the other, trying to break America's hold on him. America refused to let go of him, and instead held him even tighter. He ignored all the kicks and jabs he was receiving. After a few minutes, England gave in and hugged him back. He barely noticed his shoulder was getting damp.

"I am so, so sorry..."He pulled back to look at England; He'd been crying a little. His heart from the immense guilt. "Let's not fight about this, okay? I was being stupid; I shouldn't have criticized you for what you felt."

"That was...surprisingly mature of you." England said, blinking at him. "But, yes. I agree wholeheartedly."

"What I don't understand is why you're still upset about it now. I mean, I'm back again and it's been such a long time..."

"To be fair, we only started dating 12 hours ago."

"That's true."

"I think I'm just worried that you'll leave me again; I don't know if I could handle that.." He whispered, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

America rested his head against the other's. "I don't think I could, either..." He smiled at him sweetly. "Hey, I've got an idea! How about tomorrow we just chill together. Maybe it'll distract you from... all that."

"Sure, why not?" England gave him a half smile.

"Aw, sweet!" He whooped and pumped his fist in the air. His smiled faded and he gave England an apologetic look. "I really am sorry about earlier, though. Can I make it up to you?"

"What did you have in mind?"

America gave him a devilish grin. "Hehehehe... _stuff_." 

England rolled his eyes, but leaned in anyways. "How eloquent of you." 

Their lips had barely touched when there was a sudden shattering sound from upstairs. The noise was soon followed by several heavy thumps and a muffled "son of a bitch!".

America instinctively pulled his Nerf gun with an MLG sticker on it. He sneaked over to the stairs, motioning to England to follow him.

England gave him a judgmental look. "You're not really going to fight off a prowler with a toy, are you?"

With a brave expression, America looked at him and stated, " **It's Nerf or Nothing, Motherfucker.** "

"...Shut the fuck up, Alfred."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They quickly made it up the stairs, searching for any signs of the intruder. The commotion appeared to come from the guest bedroom. America held the gun at eye-level, finger on the trigger. Moving silently to the adjacent wall, he glanced back at England. "Stay behind me."

The older nation nodded, deciding now was not the time to argue. Taking a deep breath, America kicked open the door forcefully. "Freeze!" He shouted, looking around the messy room. At first glance, the room was empty. But out of the corner of his eye, America spotted a hulking shadow. He whipped around to face the intruder. America immediately frowned. "Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

There, in the back corner of his room, was Donald J. Trump; He was raising his arms in surrender, a look of terror on his face. "Darling! Don't shoot! It's only me!"

"How the hell did you even get here?!" America took a step forward, gun pointed directly at Trump.

"I found out your address and broke in through the window. I like your sense of interior design, by the way! It's American Nouveau!"

"Ohmigosh, thank you- I mean...Shut up! What do you even want?!"

"I'm here to take you home and-!" Trump emitted a loud gasp. "YOU!" He screeched, pointing at England furiously.

England gave him a bored look. "Can I help you?" he said, forgetting to put on the fake accent.

"YOU MAN STEALING WHOR-Wait, what's with the terrible accent? Are you trying to be British? Cause that's a terrible impression."

"I am British, you twat!"

"Uh-huh. Suuuuuureee, okay. And Bush _totally_   didn't do 7/11. Anyways, I'm also here for revenge!" Trump cackled. "It's time for my... U L T I M A T E  F O R M ."  Trump began flexing really hard. He let out a growl as a sudden cloud of smoke covered him. There was a explosion of light and a small 'pop' sound.

As the smoke cleared, the two nations looked up in horror.

Trump stood proudly in front of them. His normal suit had been replaced by an American flag cape and a thong made of $100 bills. He wore star spangled thigh high boots and white fish nets. There was a tattoo visible on his bare chest; It was his campaign slogan. His toupee was styled into thick chunky spikes. As if this wan't traumatizing enough, he was also wearing makeup. He had on bright blue eyeliner and his skin was extra-orange. His skin glowed like a radioactive stripper.

Trump pointed at them and shouted,  "It's time to make America great again!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HERE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> 
> Om goodness. This week I started school again and everything hurts. Rehearsals for musical have been kicking my ass as well. I spend 11 hours in the school building every day. I'm dead in every form of the word. Anyway, I'm sooooo happy for all the love. One commenter said something about 2p France being France's refletion so now it's canon. So yeah. Keep the love coming and stay golden <3 Kri  
> Sorry this took so long- This was unexpectedly lengthy! Chapter 9 will take 5ever to type up. But I'm honestly kinda sad we're near the end. It's been amazing and hellish to write! We couldn't have done it without you guys' support! Fun fact: There was a Trump rally near where I live about a week ago. Apparently, the crowd was impressed. God help us. But, as always, we hope you enjoyed it! By the way, do you like my costume design for Trump? ;) If someone drew that, I would actually cry. Take care, everyone!  
> -T.C :)


	9. Trumptations Part 4: Insert Super Climactic Title Name Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! This chapter may contain traces of: Anime fight scenes, Donald Trump™'s legs, Linkin Park, Google Translate, AND LETHAL AMOUNTS OF CRINGE.

The bedroom was surprisingly silent, except for Trump's heavy breathing. His newfound magical girl transformation was quite taxing on him. Regardless of his stamina, Trump stood dramatically in front of the two cowering men. Much to his disappointment, America had shut his eyes, refusing to gaze upon his glory. Trump would have none of that. "Look at me, darling! Witness perfection in human form!" Trump shouted gleefully, striking a pose.

As if by some strange power, America's head was forced upwards and he locked eyes with Trump. "Oh-Oh God, that is...Oh dear God, that isthe absolute WORST thing I have ever seen in my life. And I'm 239 years old!" He just stood there, completely frozen in horror.

"Alfred! What the hell are you waiting for?! Don't just stand there, fight him!" England shouted, grabbing America's shoulder and shaking him violently.

"I-I can't, Artie..." He whimpered, still staring straight into the billionaire's eyes.

"The fuck do you mean? Of course you can! Shoot him! He's held you hostage for Christ's sake!"

"No, it's not like that! I physically can't shoot him! My body won't move, I can't look away!"

"Are you fucking serious? Fine, you know what?" England yanked the Nerf gun out of his boyfriend's outstretched hand. "I'm done with this shit. Oi, you stupid fucking oompah loompah!" Trump whipped his head towards England, eyes widened in shock at the utter disrespect. "Yeah, I'm talking to you! I am done with you and your creepy obsession with America! He doesn't love you, not now or ever! So sod off, you stupid, obnoxious, self-righteous, sexist pig!" England quickly brought up the gun and shot Trump three times in the head, all of them simply bouncing off of him.

With an unreadable expression, Trump glared silently at the defiant man. Suddenly, he started to laugh raucously. "You shouldn't have done that." Raising his hands, Trump let out a guttural cry. Bricks began to dislodge from the house and circle him, creating a sphere. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Trump directed the bricks towards America. They piled up around the nation, eventually enclosing him in a small cage of sorts. The brick cage was at least 8 feet high, and there was a small gap so that America could see what was going on. Trump cackled, dropping his hands and giving England a triumphant smirk. 

England gaped at him. "D-did you just... _build a fucking wall around America?_ "

"But of course! I have to keep my love safe while I beat your limey ass back to the 1700's!" Trump cracked his knuckles and tossed his hair arrogantly.

"That's some pretty tough talk coming from a man who thinks China invented global warming-" England sassed. 

"NO NO NO! WRONG! I NEVER SAID THAT!" Trump interrupted, covering his ears with his hands.

"You actually did. See?" England said, pulling out his phone and showing Trump his twitter account.

"Th-hat was taken out of context! I never said that! It was probably Crooked Hillary Clinton who planted that! It's lies, I tell you!"

"Were your comments about being able to sexually assault women also taken out of context, then?"

"It was locker room talk!"

"With your physique, I doubt you've ever even seen the interior of one!"

"H-HOW DARE YOU CALL ME FAT, YOU BASTARD!" Trump snarled like a pissed off raccoon and balled his hands into tiny rage-filled fists. He swung straight at England's jaw. England narrowly avoided it, catching Trump by the wrist just in time. England landed an uppercut right underneath Trump's nose. Trump stumbled back a few feet from the force. He wiped away the blood that had started to accumulate and frowned at him. England, who was still holding the Nerf gun, chucked it straight at Trump's head. It hit him right on the forehead with a resounding "boink". Trump yelled in pain, giving England the opportunity to run up and knee him in the stomach. Trump flew backwards and land flat on his ass. Eyes wild, he let out a hoarse screech and raised his hands over his head.  Bricks appeared once more, levitating and circling around Trump's puny hands. Spreading out his fingers, the bricks sailed towards England like a rain of bullets. England ducked and leaped, twisting his body to avoid them. A brick whizzed past his head, scraping his ear. Trump cackled at the sight of the nation rushing to avoid them. Gritting his teeth, England jumped and rolled to the side. He reached out ant caught a stray brick, which his quickly threw at Trump. It hit him directly on the bridge of his nose. Trump let out a cartoonish yell and the hail of bricks promptly stopped. Panting heavily, Trump scowled furiously at England and rubbed his nose. Trump raised his arms out in front of him and clenched his hands tightly. Dollar bills appeared from out of thin air and started to cover his hands, forming papery green gauntlets. Trump punched his fist against his hand and ran towards England. Trump raised his fist and slammed it against the side of England's face. England stepped back, shaking his head to clear his mind from the impact. Trump smirked and tried to slug him again. This time he missed, allowing England to slip behind him. England kicked him in the back of his knee, causing Trump to fall forward.  Seeing a nearby brick, England grabbed it and promptly bashed Trump in the side of his head with it. Trump yowled in pain and shoved England away from him. He shot up and turned to face England, only to be quickly punched in the jaw. Trump retreated over to America's bed and climbed onto the back of it. Legs wobbling, he rushed at England and leaped off from it into the air. He cocked his arm back and punched down at the Brit, missing him completely. He instead punched the floor, the force causing his money gauntlets to completely shatter. Trump landed in a crouching position (which was quite impressive considering he was wearing stilettos) and sneered at England, blood running down several sides of his face. "I see you've avoided my first series of attacks. How impressive. But can you dodge...THE TRUMP™ PATENTED MISS UNIVERSE PAGEANT™ HIGH KICKS™?" Before England could process what that even meant, Trump shot a fishnet clad leg out and kicked him right in the calf. England faltered slightly, allowing Trump to spring up and kick at him again. This time, he aimed right leg for England's neck. His kick missed, but the stiletto's heel ended up gashing the nation's shoulder. England backed up slightly, covering the wound with his hand. Trump let out a shrill "HA!" and started kicking out at top speed. England couldn't move that well due to his leg wound, but he still managed to evade most of the high kicks. However, Trump kicked him again in the same wounded area as before. Blinded by pain, this allowed Trump to preform five consecutive roundhouse kicks to the ribs.

England fell backwards, grunting slightly in pain. Clutching his torso, he glared up at the Pumpkin Spice Latte™ colored man. Trump strolled over to him, the same shit-eating smirk plastered onto his makeup caked face. "Well Artie, I've got to give you some credit..." he said, leaning down to grab England by the collar. "You tried so hard and got so far..." Trump dropped his head right next to his ear and whispered, " _But in the end, it doesn't even matter_." Trump threw him back onto the ground harshly and stepped on his chest. He reached into the back of his thigh high stilettos and pulled out a sizable handgun. Pointing it right between the wounded nation's eyes, he snarled, "Before I deport you to the afterlife, does your traitorous, lying, limey ass have to say anything?"

"Yes.." England coughed out, making direct eye contact with Trump. "I can't believe I'm about to be shot by a man in a money thong who just quoted Linkin Park."

Trump cracked a half-smile at that, his finger moving back to rest on the trigger. "Y'know, I'm almost gonna miss ya. Goodbye, Arthur Jones."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

America stood there in his small brick prison, observing the fight. Somewhere deep inside, he knew he had to help England. But he couldn't. America had no idea why, but he was physically unable to move or take his eyes off Trump. His brain was extra sluggish, taking much longer to process information. It took him awhile to notice that England was seriously hurt. It took him even longer to see him sprawled across the floor, wheezing in pain. However, the moment Trump stepped on him , America snapped out of his foggy-brained haze. His senses kicked into hyperdrive and he quickly began to panic as Trump pulled out a gun. He tried to yell, but his voice died in his throat. America tried again, desperate to make any kind of noise and stop it. His heart dropped when Trump pointed the gun at England. Catching the brief conversation between the two, America grew even more determined to try and speak up. Using every ounce of freedom, liberty, and the American way in his body, he let out a loud heroic yell.

......Actually, it sounded more like his pet whale giving birth to a monster truck.

But still, it garnered the attention of the two men. They stared at him oddly for a few moments before England spoke up. "Is there something you needed, America?"

"YeESSs-! I mean, ahem, yes." America started, painfully aware of his voice crack. However, he quickly regained his confidence as he formed a plan in his head. "Trump,  _sweetie_ , you weren't really going to kill him without me, were you?" America cooed, blinking his eyes at Trump and giving him a pouty look.

The pet name had the desired effect on Trump, as a huge rosy blush cover his wrinkled cheeks. "Oh! I didn't know you wanted to do this together! Here, let me get you out." Trump raised his other hand and dispelled the brick cell. America strolled over to him, making sure that his hips were swinging suggestively.

"Of course,  _doll face_ _!_ I  _loooove_ you!" America practically purred, trying really hard not to throw up in his mouth. He briefly made eye contact with England, who gave him a withering look. "Just trust me, okay?" America mouthed at him. England rolled his eyes, but gave a slight nod. 

Trump beamed at America, completely oblivious to his side conversation. "I'm so happy to hear you finally say that! I was worried that he had twisted your mind against me!"

America let out an obnoxious fake laugh. "Of course not! You're just soooooo much more _handsome_ and _funny_ and _smart!_ And, you've never yelled at me for no reason at an important world meeting and claimed that I started it even though you threw a bunch of pens at me and insulted my government by insinuating that I wanted you as president, thereby ruining my McSweet Tea!" America stared directly at England during the last part, a fake smile plastered on his face. England glared at him, opening his mouth to say something, but deciding against it at the last second.

"Uh, what was that last part, darling?"

"Oh, nothing! Don't worry your pretty little head about it!" He said cheerily, patting Trump on the head. "Before we kill him, do you mind if I grab something real fast?"

"Anything you need, darling! Just make it quick."

America ran over to his bed side table, which was now covered in bricks. Rummaging through the top drawer, he grabbed a small black box. He pressed on it repeatedly and then stuffed it into his pants pocket. Then, acting as if nothing suspicious had just taken place, he returned next to Trump. "Alright, I'm all set!"

"Great! By the way, do you mind if we pull the trigger... _together?_ " Trump gazed at America, starry-eyed. "I'm a bit of a romantic when it comes to murder."

 "Sureeee...." America then wrapped his hands on top of Trump's. He felt Trump relax quite a bit and cuddle into him. America flicked his eyes over to an incredibly bored England. "Well, I guess this is goodbye, Artie."

"Yeah, whatever. Just hurry it up, will you?" England yawned.

"Alright, let's do this on 3." Said Trump. "One....Two...Thr-"

Before he could finish, America yanked the gun from out of Trump's grip and shot him in the toupee. Trump screamed, diving onto the ground. America reached down and grabbed him by the cape. Pulling Trump's face up, America punched him several times in the face, each blow punctuated with a word, "Don't. Touch. My. England. You. Fucking. Troll!" The last punch was so forceful that Trump's toupee actually flew off his head.

America was going to continue but England stopped him. "Fucking hell, Alfred! That's quite enough!" America stopped mid-punch and dropped Trump to go over and check on England. America made a pitiful noise at the sight of him. "I know it looks bad, but I'll be fine. Help me up, will you?" Once he could stand, England scowled at a simply gobsmacked Trump.

"I have...so many questions right now." Trump sputtered, spitting out a bit of blood. "Did you just call him England or is that just my concussion speaking?" 

"Honestly, it's probably both." America shrugged.

"So that's England, huh...No wonder we won the Revolution." 

"OI! DO YOU WAN'A FUCKIN' GO?! AW'LL TAKE YA ON ANY DAY A THA WEEK, YEW FUCKIN' CHAV!" screamed England, who was barely being restrained by America.

"Babe, please-" America started. However, he was immediately interrupted by a ominous roar. The house began to shake violently, and the wind picked up exponentially. America gave a hearty laugh. "Freaking finally! It took them long enough!"

"America, what the hell is going on?!"

"Remember when I had to go get something earlier? It was this!-" He pulled out the small black box. Clicking it, the lid opened and revealed a huge red button. "This thingy is basically a panic button. When I hit it, the entire National Guard shows up at my exact location!" America then dragged a stunned Trump to the broken window and waved his arm. This caught the attention of a nearby helicopter. "Hey dudes, look who I found!" He called out, thrusting Trump into the helicopters spotlight.

A loud siren went off and hundreds of vehicles suddenly pulled into America's driveway. People started pouring out of every nook and cranny, all of them heavily armed. Trump struggled, suddenly realizing just how fucked he was. "NO! I REFUSE TO BE CAUGHT!" With that, he broke America's grip and jumped out the window. He fell rapidly and landed on a police car that had been parked too closely to the house. The car's roof caved in under Trump's impact. "N-NO! THIS WILL NOT BE THE END OF M-okay I surrender." Trump stopped arguing as 75 heavily armed soldiers surrounded him, guns pointed directly at him. He looked up one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his one true love other than himself. He called out to America, who only flipped him off in response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour had passed and both nations sat together on America's lawn. The feds had questioned them both extensively on the whole ordeal, which they answered as truthfully as possible. England had gotten bandaged up, even though he insisted that he was "completely fine" and that he "wasn't bleeding  _that_ profusely". The two watched as police filed in and out of America's house, gathering every scrap of evidence they could find. Trump was stuck in the middle of a sea of investigators and reporters, spewing insults left and right. A nearby helicopter whizzed over head, briefly illuminating the pair. The sun had already set by then and America shivered slightly, pulling his jacket close to him. He then remembered that he had forgotten to give England any kind of jacket. Without thinking, he pulled England flush against him. "You looked cold," America said, shrugging in response to England's embarrassed protests.

"...Sentimental git." he scoffed, letting himself finally relax against the other. They sat together in silence, observing the ongoing chaos. 

"This has been a really weird week."

"Understatement of the millennium, love."

"Seriously though! I got kidnapped by a freaking presidential candidate, then rescued, then got into some weird anime fight with Trump, lost my pet whale and alien, had all of my McSweet Teas ruined and, to top it off, someone stole my Wal*Mart gift card!"

"Out of all the weird shit that's happened, that's what bothers you the most? Getting a fucking gift card stolen?"

"Hell yeah! I had like, $2.00 on it! Why are you laughing, this is serious!"

England shook his head, still snickering. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" America started to respond but England quickly kissed him, effectively shutting him up.

Just then, a timid looking soldier walked up to them. "Excuse me, are you Alfred F. Jones?"

"The one and only!" America replied.

"Some scientists in Area 51- I mean, a classified location, found these two creatures that apparently belong to you." The officer moved, revealing a whale and a short gray alien. 

"OHMYGOD!!! TONY! WHALEY! YOU GUYS ARE OKAY!" America shouted joyfully. Whaley waddled over to America and "wooooed" happily.

Tony, however, stayed put and chose to stare with intense hatred at England. Pointing a finger at the nation, he briefly looked over to America and said, "Fucking limey bastard."

 England scowled at the alien. "You little shit, I know you speak English!"

"Artie, it's okay! He says that he's glad to see you!" Said America, trying to calm the other.

"Oh _really_ ?" asked England, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I- kind of...? I'm sure he doesn't actually hate you as much as he says!" America gave an uncomfortable laugh. Tony and Whaley eventually went back into the house, confusing many people in their wake.

Suddenly, a loud yell came from the driveway as officers rushed over to the scene. Shouts of "Hold your fire!" and "Get the taser!" came from an FBI truck from over there. There was a flash of light and then a strangled stream. "The hell's going on?! Alfred, come on!" England grabbed him by the hand and ran over to the commotion. Pushing their way to the center, they saw Trump fighting a police officer trying to put him in a straight jacket.

"UNHAND ME, YOU IMMIGRANT!" Trump shouted, slugging the officer square in the jaw. The crowd moved back to give him some more room.

"What are you guys doing?! Just shoot him!" America yelled over the crowd's noise.

"We can't! What if he sues us?!" came a panicked officer.

"Trump never sues anyone! Damn it, hold on!" America pulled out the gun he had stolen from Trump earlier. He cocked the gun, causing Trump to stop his tirade.

"AH! Please don't shoot me again, darling!" He cried, waving his hands in the air.

"Why the fuck shouldn't I?!"

"Because I love you, America! All I want to do is restore you to your former glory! I've always loved this place! I told myself that if this country were a women, I'd take it furniture shopping in order to try to fuck it! Then I found you existed and I instantly fell in love with you. And it's okay because I said "No Homo" before I admitted that I loved you. You represent some of the best things about this place: Innovation, money, fast food, white people, strength, courage, money, political prowess and hot blondes!" Trump finished with a glittering smile, hoping that America would finally realize that he was only trying to do good. Unfortunately for him, America didn't lower the gun. "O-okay, so maybe I was wrong for kidnapping you! And maybe I shouldn't have found out where you lived, parachuted onto your roof and broke into your house to try and reclaim you! But that's okay because you love me!"

"When have I ever said that?!"

"While you were asleep! You kept saying stuff like "I love you" and "More" and all that! Since I was the only one around at the time, I figured it had to be me!"

"T-that wasn't about you! Wait, wait, wait...YOU WATCHED ME SLEEP?"

"Uh...Is that a bad thing?" An earsplitting gun shot rang out. "OH GOD I'M GONNA DIE DEAR GOD NO I'M TOO YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL NO NO NO NO-"

"Calm the fuck down, it was a blank!"

"Oh...So you're not actually gonna kill me?"

"Not yet, anyways." America replied menacingly.

"Darling, please forgive me!" Trump dropped to his knees, pleading. "Alfred, darl-" Another shot rang out, causing Trump to scream once again.

"Don't you dare call me that! And do you honestly except me to even consider forgiving you after all you've done?"

Trump nodded quickly. "I'd do anything!"

"...Anything, you say?"

"Absolutely!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within ten minutes, Trump had willingly been put into several sets of restraints, including a straight jacket. He had also signed several restraining orders, including America's, and was beginning to pay for all the damage he had caused by taking over D.C. He was extremely displeased as he thought about how much he had lost. At least America would forgive him, right? Feeling grumpy, he turned and leered at England. "You filthy traitor!" He spat. England gave him a bored look in response. Disappointed in the lack of reaction, Trump decided to dig at him. "You don't deserve him! You're pathetic, weak! If I wasn't tied up, I swear I'd kill you with my bare hands!"

England rolled his eyes. "You can't kill a country, you buffoon."

Trump glared at him, defeated. "Oh yeah?! Well...You have stupid eyebrows!"

"Wow, I haven't heard that before. How could you say such a thing?" England muttered sarcastically.

Not registering the sarcasm, Trump smirked triumphantly. "Ha! How could he ever love some with such hideous eyebrows?"

"Actually, I think they're kinda hot!" America chimed in, slinging his arm around England's waist.

"Bull-shit! What, are you gonna tell me you like those fucked up teeth, too? If they were any more crooked, they'd be Hillary Clinton!"

"You know what? I DO! Deal with it!" America stated proudly.

"My teeth aren't crooked! They're just crowded!" England defended.

"Well yeah, but you also have a gap tooth. It's really cute though!" he reassured.

"I do not have a gap tooth!!"

"Artie, babe, it's fine! It gives you character!"

Trump cackled loudly. "It's a huge gap! I could build a Trump™ wall across it!"

"Would you shut the fuck up?!" America yelled angrily. He looked down to see a mortified England covering his hand with his mouth.

 "I bet that's why you two haven't done it yet, huh? How could he like such an ugly person?" Trump smirked. "Honestly, I wonder if he's even attracted to you!"

America seethed with rage. He knew that Trump was just playing some stupid little mind game in an effort to try and ruin their relationship. Well, that wasn't going to happen-not on his watch. "Alright, that's it! C'mere Artie!" Tilting England's head up, America kissed him sloppily on the mouth. America practically devoured the other's lips, much to England's surprise. America ran his tongue along the roof of the other's mouth, earning him a choked gasp. After a few minutes, America pulled back and patted a very dazed England on the back. "Sorry, Artie! I know how much you hate PDA, but I had to prove a point. Don't let this fucking sweet potato ruin your self-esteem, okay?" England gave a slight nod and slumped against him. America turned his attention back to Trump. "I think you've overstayed your welcome. Haul him off, dudes!"

A small group of police officers dumped him into the back of a nearby FBI truck. Before they could close it, Trump told them to stop. "There's one more thing I forgot to tell you!" he called out, catching America's attention. "Go ahead and haul me off! That won't stop me from having wet dreams about your round, peachy ass in those daisy dukes, Sweet Cheeks!"

America actually screamed.

With regained confidence, England walked up and punched Trump as hard as he possibly could in the crotch. "Sod off, you mangy pervert!" He slammed the doors closed. "Away with him!" The truck then drove off with a howling Trump inside. England walked back over to America and squeezed his hand. They watched the truck drive farther and farther into the distance. It slowly dawned on them that it was finally over.

"Welp, I dunno about you, but that killed my boner!"America said after a long time, trying to forget what had happened.

"Tell me about it. This has been absolutely horrid."

"What a shitty lead up to my birthday, huh?" America laughed weakly. "Honestly, I just want to go inside and watch reruns of RuPaul's Drag Race for the rest of the night. Care to join me?"

"Of course. Would you like me to make you some tea?'

"As long as you're not cooking, babe."

"There is nothing wrong with-!"

"You set your house on fire once while cooking."

"So?! That happens to a lot of people!"

"You were making cereal!" 

England didn't even bother retorting, so he instead walked back to the house with America, clutching his hand tightly. They were suddenly stopped by an out-of-breath government agent. "Mr. America and Mr. England? I've been ordered to tell you that there's been an emergency G8 meeting being held tomorrow at a local convention center. You two will have to explain the whole mess, as the rest of the United States government is trying to cover up the existence of uh, 'your kind'."

America gave him a distraught look. "But tomorrow's my birthday! I was gonna get laid!"

"AMERICA!" England shrieked, slapping him on the arm.

"What?! You know it's true!"

"That doesn't mean the whole bloody world has to know!"

The agent coughed uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for interrupting your booty call, but we can't change it now. The members are flying here as we speak."

"Well that's just great. By the way, how do you guys plan on covering this all up?"

"We're just going to say that he's fucking batshit insane. I apologize-insane. I'm not allowed to swear."

"Alright. Well thanks anyways, dude." America fist bumped the secret agent.

After a very long time, the government agents and police eventually left his house. Once it was just the two of them, the couple went inside to cuddle and watch RuPaul until they finally fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Many hours later, the two nations arrived surprisingly early. As soon at the meeting began, they were ambushed by a barrage of questions. After a few moments, Germany shut everyone up by yelling, as usual. "We're not going to get anything done if you ask meaningless questions!" Germany shouted. He turned sharply to face America and England. "Explain yourselves!"

Nervously, they told the entirety of what happened. The other G8 members were shockingly well-behaved, only interrupting them to laugh or groan in disgust. After they had finished, America looked around and asked, "So, uh...Any questions?"

France politely raised his hand. "You two are finally together now,  _oui?"_

 America glanced at England before giving a firm, "Yup."

"Does that mean you two have... _consummated your relationship?_ " France said with a flirtatious wink. A very flustered England nearly jumped over the table to fight France, but was restrained by America. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

"ANYWAYS..." Germany said, exasperated. "Are their any questions that aren't about their love lives?" Nobody raised there hand. "Of-fucking-course not. As usual, this was completely pointless to the plot. Why do I even bother? What do these meetings even accomplish? Why do I even exist? What is life? What are we? Why do we all fight, knowing that death is inevitable in the ceaseless march of time? What do we hope to accomplish by making allies, fighting in wars, conquering everything the light touches, even living?"

"Germany, are you okay?" Italy asked, nervously touching his shoulder.

Germany gave him a frightening look. "No, Ita, I'm not okay. Do you realize that bees are dying, and that the world could end because of it? Do you realize how awful it is to wake up every morning and know that history repeats itself therefore we all live in a never ending cycle of destruction and peace? Has no one ever really considered how we are all slaves to the global economy? Has no one even thought of how we can never die, so we must see the world be burnt and born anew every single time? Because I do, Feli. I do."

"...And on that cheerful note, I think we're done here!" America announced, trying to ignore the now crying Germany. "Is he gonna be okay?" 

"Si! It's nothing copious amounts of alcohol and petting dogs can't cure!" Italy beamed as Germany started to sob "Hello" in German.

"Good luck with that, buddy! Now, if you excuse me, I got stuff to do!" said America as he walked towards the door with England

"Ohonhonhon, don't you mean you have _someone_ to do, America?"

"France, I swear-" began America, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"In all seriousness, I do have something very important to tell you and _Angleterre_.." France said, coming up behind them.

"What is it, frog?"

At that moment, France swiftly grabbed both nations's asses and whispered sensually, " _Ménage à trois_ is just my language for threesome, darlings~"

"That's funny. Trump said it was Spanish." smirked England.

France collapsed to the ground while hissing, " _Vous maudissent, Angleterre!"_

America grabbed England's hand and gestured towards the exit. "Shall we?"

"Of course, love." They strolled, leaving France foaming at the mouth. Canada, who had been ignored the entire time, peered down at him.

"You alright there, buddy?"

France made a strange gurgling sound in response.

Canada sighed, rolling his eyes. "Last night, Gil did this thing with his-"

France shot up like a bullet. " **Tell me.** "

Canada walked away from him, having completed his civic duty. "Nah."

"You cannot give me le bleu balls! Mathieu, wait!" France cried, rushing after him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eager to get home, the couple walked quickly towards the building's exit. All of a sudden, a voice cried out, "Wait!". America and England stopped, turning to face the speaker. Behind them was an older woman with a strange smile plastered on her face. She was surrounded by six other men, dressed head to toe in black. "America! It's me!" The woman said, waving her arm wildly.

"Oh, uh, hi Hillary. How's it going..?" 

"Fantastic! After Trump's latest stunt, I think I know who's gonna be your next boss!" She laughed, attempting to wink at him. "Let's just say that my campaign is pretty  **lit** right now!"

England suppressed a laugh at the slightly horrified expression on America's face. Forcing a smile, America replied cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure it is, Hillary."

"Hey, whaddaya think about changing the title from President of the United States to **Meme Queen of the Free World**?" Hillary asked, taking a swig of Mountain Dew.

"Oh boy, that's uh, wow. Interesting choice. I'll have to think about that." On the inside, America screamed in agony.

"That reminds me! Happy birthday,  **bro**!" She grinned, shoving a small box into his hands. "G'wan and open it!"

America unwrapped it and, to his great displeasure, saw that it was a vape. "Gee whiz, thanks Hillary. I am...so grateful for this..thing." He thanked her, trying to remain as polite as possible.

"It's  **no biggie** ,  **brossiah**. It's what all the hip  **swagalicious** youths are doing these days. Might as well keep up with the times!" America looked at her with barely concealed despair. England simply laughed at his pain.

"Hey, who's this  **homeboy**?" Clinton asked, pointing to England.

"This is The Untied Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. But you can just call him Iggy."

"Is he your  **bae**?" Clinton asked with utmost seriousness.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Clinton." greeted England, trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

"Call me _Chillary_ , my dude!" They both reached out to shake hands but at the last second, Hillary dabbed. " **You're too slow!** " Hillary then started to laugh harder than she should have, clutching her stomach and weeping tears of joy. "Didja get it? It's a Knuckles the Echidna reference!"

America opened his mouth to lecture her on the vast differences between Knuckles the Echidna and Sonic the Hedgehog, but England stopped him. "Well, it was lovely to meet you, "Chillary", but I'm afraid America and I have important business to attend to."

"So what are you doin' for his birthday? Are you two gonna  **Netflix and Chill**?" She asked, snapping her fingers at them.

"He's getting the "succ", ma'am." England stated, causing America to choke and sputter on air.

"I feel you, my dude. Remember: Spitters are for quitters, vote Chillary for prez 2016 for a dope ass time!" She then turned around and rolled away on her heelies.

As she sped off into the distance, America gave England a saddened look. "The next for years are going to hell."

"Yes, well at least she didn't kidnap you." England comforted, patting him on the arm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 They made their way to their rental car. England was still laughing his ass off over the Clinton ordeal, much to America's embarrassment. "It's not funny, dude!" America pouting, climbing in the backseat with him and shutting the car doors.

"You're completely right. It's fucking  _hilarious_." England said, bursting into another round of giggles. "Or should I say... HILLARY-ous?" he snickered.

"You are dead to me." He grumbled, completely turning away from the other.

England laughed once more before taking America's chin and turning his head towards him. "Come off it, love. I'm just teasing you." He sighed, rubbing his thumb along the other's jawline.

America shivered slightly at the touch. "Sorry, I've just been kinda stressed recently. Not to mention, I had to go to a stupid ass meeting on my BIRTHDAY. Total. Bull. Shit."

England smirked at him. "Well, I have an idea of how I can make that up to you.." he almost purred.

America raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh? I hope we're thinking the same thing, then."

"I'm sure we are." said England, leaning in to kiss America.  It started out slowly, with both countries preferring to lazily slide their lips against each other's. America heated things up by slipping his tongue past England's lips, running it along the other's teeth. Not one to be so easily dominated, England pushed his tongue against the others and pressed his mouth even closer. America left his mouth to instead kiss at his neck and jaw. He eventually settled on sucking and biting a pulse point that made England moan.  America began to run his hands down the other's sides, caressing his hips through his pants. Pulling the smaller man into his lap, he moved his hands to the other's crotch and began to grope him there. England let out a series of soft grunts, which pleased America greatly. He unbotted his pants and slid his hand beneath England's boxers to rub the now prominent erection. He slid his other hand up the Brit's shirt to toy with his chest. England gasped loudly and pulled America's face forward to kiss him hard, sucking at his lips, tongue, anything he could get his mouth on.

Suddenly, a voice piped up, "Hey guys, need some lotion?". Both countries scrambled away from each other as fast as possible out of fright. From the front seat came the cocky grin of Mark. He was holding a small container of cheap hotel body lotion. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I interrupting something?" He asked innocently.

"Mark, start the car before I murder you in cold blood." England hissed, struggling to pull up his pants.

"Jeez, what's with the animosity? I was simply taking a nap while I waited for you guys."

"You cock blocked us  **again**." growled America.

"How was I supposed to know that? You both could've sealed the deal last night or this morning!" He defended,racing out of the parking lot.

Both nations opened their mouths to say something, but chose to fall silent. "As soon as we get through the door, we're fucking." England whispered, frustration clear in his voice.

"Sounds like a plan." America grunted. Even though he was extremely frustrated and uncomfortable, America was quite happy with how everything turned out. He looked forward to spending more time with England and hopefully having a successful next four years. He stared out the window and thought of his future as they drove onward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kri- Oh m goodness, it's been too long guys. So let me tell you the skinny. While we were gone I rehearsed and preformed in my school musical, got a boyfriend and broke up with him, failed in a diving meet, and auditioned for and got a named part in another play. Life has be weird and hectic. We're back tho and we bring you one the cringiest chapters of anything ever. At last, chapter ten is in my hands so this will take a bit but oh well. As always, thank you for the comments and kudos. We love you all.Stay golden, loves <3 
> 
> T.C.-Well holy shit this finally got uploaded oh my jeez. My computer died today, so part of this was written on my IPod touch. we apologize for the long wait, school has been kicking our asses. But anyways, here it is, in all it's memey glory. Fun fact: the trump fight was based off of the Mettaton fight from Undertale because I'm a fucking nerd. Anyways, the country dies tomorrow, so it was nice knowing you all. Thanks for reading!


	10. All good things must come...... to an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America celebrates his birthday with his favourite Englishman. WARNING: mentions of furries, Mark Bingham, and dabbing Clinton. Also smut.

Once they got home, the two counties stood in the front entrance and sighed. The car ride was almost unbearable. Sure, the sexual tension was bad, but their driver did not help one bit. Mark kept giving them the should and should nots on what to and how to do it. At one point, Mark had begun discussing the history and science behind lube, and how the flavored stuff tastes like bad candy.

Both countries shuttered at the memory. Mark was a nice enough guy but really, they didn’t need an in-depth lecture about sex ed. They were adults after all. After a moment of total silence, they exchanged a look; and in a spilt second, America then mounted England to the door, kissing him feverishly. England melted into the kiss and wrapped his legs around him to keep his knees from giving out. America took no time at all to hoist him up so England’s legs are resting on his hips.

America the rolled his hips slowly into England’s crotch, pulling a whiney moan from the older country. He took that as invitation to continue slowly rubbing their clothed members, getting as many gasps and groans of him as possible.

At some point, England pushed at America’s shoulders and unwrapped his legs from around his waist.

“What? Was I doing something wrong?” America asked worried.

“No no no. It’s just… well…” England had to round up his thoughts before looking him in his eyes. ”Although this is very fun, I did not endure shitty confessions, an horridly kept inn, an orange man in a thong, an dabbing presidential candidate, and my driver just so I could get dry humped against your front door.”

“Oh.” Not a second passed before a sly grin spread across his face. “You really wanted to get me into bed that bad, huh?”

“Of course, you git!” England screamed and America Just laughed. He once again hoisted England up in arms, this time carrying him bridal style, and kissed him on the nose before proceeding through the house.

As soon as they got into the room, America dropped England on the bed and he landed with a small yelp.

“Git! Be more careful!”

He climbed on top of him while chuckling. “Hehe, sorry babe. I’m just excited.”

“Just kiss me, silly,” America smiled and did what his boyfriend requested of him.

The kiss started out slow and sensual. Just lips moving like two solids melding to become one but can never quite to the point of whole. It was sweet and held more emotion then either man could express through words. But as the hosts of said lips’ excitement grew, the sweet kiss cultivated into something quite akin to quick sloppy pecks. Not much time passed before the lips of the American decided the they wanted to explore elsewhere, and began their journey down the English man’s chin.

The short journey ended when he reached his neck. He apparently believed that one hickey was not enough. As he began working on number two, England was losing himself in the sensation. He cannot say he has never felt this before. Being a country of his age, he of course had his fair share of lovers. This, somehow, was very different. He could guess it was the fact it was some he cared deeply about and not some random guy who wanted a meaningless fling. But such thoughts were merely white noise now as the only thing on England’s mind was, in fact, America.

America suddenly stopped and looked at him. “Can you, uh,” he pointed at his shirt, “take this off?”

“Wha.. Oh, yes. Of course.” He lifts his shirt over his head but his head is now stuck at the collar. America can’t help but start giggling as the brit tries to free himself. “Git. You know, you could help me instead of laughing at my pain.” Voice muffled slightly by the shirt.

“Haha. Well, that’s what you get for wearing button-ups all the time.”

After getting his shirt over his head, a disgruntled England threw it at the laughing American. Still giggling, America removed the shirt covering his face and discarded it on the floor.

England looked over America then said, “Do you perhaps want to…well...?” He gestured to a fully clothed America. Meanwhile he looked at him confused. England sighed and continued, “Well, I can’t be the only one getting naked.”

“Oh, heh, right.” Blushing, he began removing his own shirt. The air was thick with the nervousness both counties were feeling, but still neither wasting any time removing what they had on.

Once America had discarded everything but his boxers, he looked over at his boyfriend and the sight was incredible. England was stark naked and blushing liked no tomorrow. His hands were shoved between his crossed legs, and his gaze was very focused on his lap. His shoulders were very tense to the point where they looked like they were going to break off his body. All in all, to anyone else he looked like a nervous wreck, but to America he was the cutest thing on the planet.

He smirked and crawled over to England. At that point, England look up and his eyes were meet by beautiful sea blue eyes. He gave a small smile before leaning in to kiss him again.

This kiss was just as amazing as the last, but this time tongues meet almost instantly. America’s quickly took dominance, finding its way through every nook and cranny in the other mouth. The sounds that England were muffled by the kiss, but they still had a very huge effect on America. The feeling of the vibration the moans were making in his mouth sent shivers down America’s spin and stopped at his groin. As if he wasn’t already very hard, this made his dick ache.

His hands wasted no time at all to reach down and grope that perky ass. England quickly broke the kiss and squeaked. But America’s mouth did not leave England’s body for a second as it took England’s ear lobe and began playing with it.

“A-America.” His voice was needy and the American became very aware of the extremely hard, leaking member pressed up against him. He took that as hint, and blindly searched for his entrance.

He found very quickly and was about to press a finger inside before he remembered something.

“Hey, bade.”

England opened his previously closed eyes and glared slightly, grumpy that he had been pulled from his euphoric trance. “What?”

“Could you, perhaps, get the lube?” He asked sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you get that before?”

“Well…you see…..I was….you were just so cute and-“

“I am not cute.”

“Well you are but it was kind of this sexy cute. You know that kind?”

“No. I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Um, it is a thing, prime example: furries. I’m man enough to admit I got a boner during Equestria girls.”

There was very long pause, both countries just stared at one another. Then England reached to grab the lube from the bedside table. He was about to chuck it at America’s head but his eyes read the bold red letters on the label.

“Why does it say ‘Super-Sized’? And why is it half used?”

“Hey, some nights are lonelier than others. Don’t judge.”

“Don’t judge? You’re a fucking furry.”

“Ah, no I’m not. Slumber parties with Japan get really weird sometimes.” England stared at him for a bit before he added, “Don’t ask.”

England sighed, “Can both just skip to the scene where you’re sticking one of your fingers in my arse.”

America starting choking and England puffed up his chest a bit. It was nice not being the one spurting like an idiot for once. When the coughing subdued, America pulled the English man to his chest.

“Ya know, you don’t have to be so blunt.”

“I do when I’ve been waiting for this night forever.”

America reached, the England still on his lap mind you, for the bottle of lube. He grabbed it, pulled back his body to the position it was in than slathered some of cool liquid in his hand. He maneuvered that hand so it was hovering just outside of his entrance. He then looked in his eyes and smirked. “Well then, the wait is over, baby.”

“You know you’re no-ah haaa~” He was abruptly interrupted by a finger quickly entering him. Judging by the thick, stubbiness of the digit, he guessed it was America’s thumb. He slouched, allowing gravity to push the rest of it inside.

Not long after, he placed his forehead on America’s shoulder and groaned. All he could feel at the was America rotating his thumb ever so slowly, stretching his walls. But this was going too slow. He knew he shouldn’t be too hasty but all he wanted now was this man inside him. He’d been waiting for too long.

“America?”

“Yes babe?”

“I love this, and I know you’re trying to be careful, but is there any way we could speed this up?” He lifted his head to look in his eyes.

“I mean, sure. But are you sure you’re ready for that?” His voice was dripping with concern. So much so that if England didn’t know him, it would seem out of character.

His eyes softened and he cupped America’ cheek. “It will be alright. Trust me when I say you’re not the biggest I’ve had. Plus, I bet those boxer shorts are getting uncomfortable, ya?”

America looked down and was reminded that his underwear was, in fact, still on his body. And that his cock was straining heavily against them. “You right,” he muttered. He thought about it for a moment before saying, “Okay, but if it ever gets too much for you, tell me.”

“I will.” He then scooted off his lap so he could take of his boxers. It was pretty comical watching America scramble about, trying to get his shorts off, grab a condom and unwrapped it. He smiled at how silly this man-child could be, even in a time like this.

Once he got the condom on, he gave a triumphant smile. “I got it.”

“Do you now?”

America’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the smirking English man. He leaned down, their eyes still fixed, and he lead England to lean against the pillows. “Shut it, limey,” he said in a low voice.

“Make me, git” His voice mirroring America’s. They met each other in another open mouth kiss that sent shivers up England’s spine. Tongues melded and danced together and England grew even more aroused. He was already so hard, and he just wished that America would bury himself in deep. Not a moment after that thought entered his mind, he something nudge his entrance.

America broke the kiss with a loud pop and rested his forehead to England’s. “Ready?”

“Yes.” He breathed out.

America smiled and pushed as slowly as he could into England. And the feeling was exquisite. Inside was so tight and hot and the wall pulsed around his member. He had to will every cell in his body not to quickly shove the rest of himself in him and pound his ass into the mattress. He most certainly didn’t want to hurt him.

He pushed until he was at the hilt and he paused, allowing them both to catch their breaths. “Are you okay?” he asked, breathless.

“Yes. You… can move now.” England was panting slowly and his face looked slightly pained.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Trust me, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” And just like that he pulled backed and pushed in again.

The friction was delicious. Every thrust was somehow better than the last. Both men were losing themselves in the feeling. For America, he enjoyed the feeling of England loosening everything he thrust into him. For England, he loved the sting at first and how it turned into an indescribable pleasure.

America then hit something inside of England, something that made his vision go white and he almost came on the spot. “T-there.” He gasped. And just as he requested, America focused all his attention to hitting that spot.

His pace quickly to the point where he was practically pounding his prostate. Both countries moans were loud and filled the hot room as they began to reach their climax. England could feel the heat building in his chest and he wrapped his arms around America’s neck.

“Al-fred, I’m so- so,” He couldn’t complete his thought for all he could think was ‘Alfred, Alfred, Alfred’.

“I- know, baby. I am too.” And just like that, his chest tightened and he let out a high-pitched whine. He shot all over his belly and America’s and he was fighting to regain steady breathing. Just as soon as his aftershock passed, he heard America groan then he flopped himself on England.

England let out a low ‘oof’ and America immediately lifted himself up. “Oh sorry, Artie.”

“Heh, you called me Artie.” His voice was light and breathless.

“Yeah, well you called me Alfred first.”

England hummed and closed his eyes. A tired silence stretched between them before America pulled out that got out of the bed. Not much was heard expect the rustling in the bathroom and England began dosing off.

He was startled from his well-deserved sleep when he felt something cold and wet touch his chest. “Oh sorry, I was just cleaning you off. You don’t want to sleep in that mess, right?”

England gave him a tired smiled. Once he finished, he chucked the cloth in the dirty clothes hamper and climbed into bed with him. England quickly snuggled up to him as soon as he laid down and muttered, “Happy Birthday, Alfred. I love you.”

America smiled, “I love you too, Arthur.” And both countries feel happily asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In some random penthouse in Paris, a certain French man was enjoying his quiet Monday night. While sitting on his porch and sipping on an 1895 merlot, a warm feeling spread across his chest. He looked up at the night sky, smiling.

“Ah, finally.”

France took a long sip of his wine and started singing a French love song to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg. We are finally done. It has been one wild ride folks and I am so glad we got to ride it with you. I am very thankful for all of the commenters and people who gave use kudos. You really gave me the strength to keep writing and now I give you horrible smut. But what are ya gonna do. I promised myself I'd finish this and I did so very yay. If you want any scoop about my life then all I can tell you is a few days ago I took the ACT. So yeah. I am so happy for everyone especially my crazy cousin who was the brain child for this crazy idea. I love you all and Stay golden <3 Kri
> 
> All I can say is a huge fucking thank you to everyone, whether you loved this, hated it, or somewhere in between. I'm sorry this took so friggin' long but hey. It was worth it, no? Shout out to all the lovelies who left us comments and kudos-we never imagined this would get over 100 kudos like WTF HOW. Thank you all for reading this, and I just wanna wish everyone good luck for the next four years. No matter your nationality, race, gender, whatever, we're aLL IN THIS TOGETHER AND IT SHOWS WHEN WE STAND HAND IN HAND MAKE OUR DREAMS COME TRU- I'll stop. Anyways, good night and good luck, everyone! ~ The Cousin

**Author's Note:**

> Well, better put up my flame shield cause this is gonna get some hate. I know it.
> 
> This story was made by my cousin and I. She came up with this AMAZINGLY terrible concept and we played off it for a fucking hour. She's typing up the whole thing because I'm slow. So yeah, blame her ;)
> 
> Side note: We're really sorry about the shit formatting. It'll be much better in the next chapter.
> 
> Also: Neither of us are Republicans, so no offense to anyone who is! (Well...I mean..come on guys...This is Trump we're talkin 'bout. Not the Ted 'the Zodiac Killer' Cruz.) Anyways, we don't care who you're voting for. You do you, man.
> 
> One last thing: Yes, we do expect to be shot for this. Do we regret writing this? Fuck no.
> 
> Thanks for reading, mates!


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